


Homesick

by radagastcar



Series: The Heathens Saga [3]
Category: Avenged Sevenfold
Genre: F/M, Multi, a7x, avenged sevenfold - Freeform, bandfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:27:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 42,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25863577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radagastcar/pseuds/radagastcar
Summary: It isn't easy for two touring musicians to maintain a relationship, but Brian "Synyster Gates" Haner, Jr. of Avenged Sevenfold and Findlay O'Shaughnessy of the Heathens seem to have hit their stride. They managed to avoid the backlash of either of their fan-bases by revealing their relationship to the public, but both maintain their careers as high-powered shredders without jealousy.As they begin to explore their "agreement" further, will their relationship survive the doubts of their closest friends - and the strain of their own expectations?
Relationships: Synyster Gates/Original Character(s)
Series: The Heathens Saga [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1429528
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: This story was originally posted to Mibba in 2017 to keep track of my Camp NaNo '17 project. It's going to be riddled with inaccuracies - that's the nature of NaNo writing - and some awkward time jumps.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: This story contains sexually explicit and sensitive ("triggering") content, excessive swearing and the occasional Oxford comma. Read at your own discretion.

It had been a long time since Finn had flown solo, and it was a long flight from Norway to LAX. Even though she had been forced to sit next to a smelly man for the entire flight, she was still brimming with excitement by the time the flight touched down and she was able to text Haner.

‘Landing.’

‘I'll be at baggage claim.’

‘Skip it. Carry on only.’ The guitarist had travelled light - eschewing much of her tour stuff for the week and a half of downtime she was spending with Brian. It was freeing not to have to lug around a piece of luggage that was almost as big as she was.

‘Phew.’

Finn didn't have time to wonder why he was so relieved that she had packed light as she bustled through LAX, dodging travelers with her hood up and sleeves down to avoid being recognized. Fame was a strange thing, and while she loved her fans, she wasn't extremely excited to cavort with them after a super long international flight.

Brian stood at the other end of customs, leaning against a pole with his arms crossed. He looked decidedly Californian in checkered Vans, black shorts and a white v-neck, with a only slightly dumb-looking Panama hat pulled over his unruly bouffant.

It was difficult for her not to run to him, forcing herself to take quick but calm steps toward the grinning man through the throngs of people coming through customs. It was necessary - running through airports generally drew the wrong kind of attention from the police, or so she had inferred from a few incidents on tour. The bedheaded guitarist took her into his arms for a quick kiss, holding her tightly against his chest as the world swirled around them for a moment with his fingertips under her chin.

“I missed you, kid,”

“I love you Bri,” She winked up at the tawny-eyed man, who still grinned down at her. “Can we get out of here? Airports give me hives.”

Brian laughed and took her hand in his, pulling along her small suitcase for her.

“You look like my kid,” He murmured as they walked out into the glaring California sun. Haner had seamlessly produced sunglasses out of nowhere and Finn was left struggling to pull hers out of her backpack. She did look like a kid, she mused as she yanked off her hoodie, struggling with her effects until he took the backpack by the top strap to hold for her as she juggled her phone, the Beartooth hoodie and her sunglasses. More like a kid with the oversized hoodie and backpack on, less so now that she held the offending sweater in her hands.

“Better? It's hot as tits out here,”

“Yeah, I wouldn't have worn pants…”

“I came from fucking Norway, Brian,” She glowered up at him through her sunglasses, knowing the guitarist was immune to her gesture.

“Yeah, yeah. A really sweary kid.”

“Don't say that, that makes you a pedophile, then,”

Brian shook his head at her, gripping her hand tightly in his like he didn’t want to let it go. They walked through the parking garage toward something that looked like a Koenigsegg. It took the lithe guitarist a minute to realize that Brian intended to drive her to his house in the slick silver vehicle, and about another ten seconds to begin to buzz with excitement.

“Is that the fucking car you brought?!” Finn was equal parts excited and shocked as she admired the vehicle, stopping dead in her tracks as he pulled her toward the car. “What if I had actually brought luggage, you ass?”

“I was worried about that. I'm very glad you didn't,” He took her bag and shoved it into the meager “trunk space” in the nose of the car before he came back around to the passenger side where she tried to figure out the door, backpack in hand. As he helped her with the handle, he pushed her firmly against the side of the car, his hips pressing into the small of her back and his lips to her temple.

“Do I take my clothes off before I get in?” She joked, though the lust in her voice surprised her. He groaned against her ear, two fingers and a thumb under the waist of her jeans squeezed her hip before he released her, pulling the gull wing door up.

“Don't do that to me. This car is way too small for that,”

“Why'd you bring it then?” Finn asked with a wink as she buckled her seatbelt, reaching to pull the door down. She found she had to undo her seatbelt to reach the handle, cursing the “form over function” nature of supercars as he joined her in the driver’s seat, revving the engine before his door was fully closed. She should have take her clothes off, Finn mused with an internal giggle.

“Because of that look on your face,” He murmured as he focused on backing the rowdy manual out of the parking spot. “It’s not as expensive as you think, really. It was used.”

“Don’t say that, it ruins the illusion that you’re made of money. I didn't know you were into cars.”

“Divorce does things to you. She took the house. I got a fancy car. Helps attract the ladies.” Finn pursed her lips, content to relax and watch him shift smoothly through the gears in LA Traffic. He was certainly right, the car totally ‘attracted the ladies.’

“I mean, I'm impressed. That's coming from someone who still drives an ‘04 Jetta though,” She admired the vehicle as he got onto the highway. “How long until we get there? Where is there?”

“I live in Huntington. It's… like an hour.”

“Hm. Not awful. Where's your old house?”

“Next door,” Finn gasped before she realized he was grinning as he joked at her and jabbed a finger against his shoulder. “It's like twenty minutes away. Actually next door to Matt’s. Which can get awkward.”

“I can imagine.”

Finn ran a hand down his tattooed bicep, watching LA slip by through the narrow windshield. It didn't seem like they were on the road for an hour, but her addiction was bugging her for a cigarette by the time they pulled up to Haner’s house. It was tucked back in a gated community, bordered by a high fence and two other houses, but tall trees peeking from the backyard spoke of privacy. It was typical California coastal with a whitewashed wood exterior, and was build practically on the street with no yard to speak of. For a house along the water next to the Pacific Coast Highway (the PCH, he informed her), it was fairly large, but was still considered a cottage. It was certainly bigger than what the apartment dweller was used to, but she couldn't get a feel on just how large it was as he pulled into the garage alongside a much more modest black F-150 and a wall full of surfboards.

She bounced out of the supercar, leaving him with her bags as she let herself in through the garage door, gazing around. She wasn't sure what she had expected - gothic decor a la Bam Margera, maybe? - but the inside of the house looked like a Swedish catalog. Minimal, sleek, done in shades of white, gray and red.

“Huh,” Finn looked around in wonder - the ceilings were high, and the view out the back of the house was absolutely stunning, looking over a small infinity pool which blended into the ocean. “Fuck, Brian,”

“It’s not cozy like your place, but it’s home,” He shrugged as he followed her into his house. “I wanted to live on the water, so I couldn’t go for something huge, but it suits me.”

“If by cozy you mean small, then yes, your house is definitely not small.” She followed him as he rolled her suitcase across the whitewashed wooden floor to what had to be his bedroom. “You get an interior designer in here?”

“Nah, the house kinda had this vibe already. I just cracked a catalog and threw money at it.” He shrugged, sounding embarrassed as he set her bag top of the dresser. “Wanna change and go have a smoke?”

Finn didn’t answer as she fell onto her back on his bed, sinking into the memory foam and the soft white comforter, arms outstretched and feet dangling above the floor. After a moment, he slowly started to pull off her boots.

“I could sleep here for days,” She murmured, and sat up so she could change. “That is the comfiest fucking bed.”

“I’ve considered getting something a little less comfy so I can get out of it in the morning. Old age is hitting me right in the joints.”

“Sorry, babe. I can’t help with the aging,” It was his turn to sit on the edge of the bed, watching as she changed, pulling shorts and a tank top over her bare skin. He didn't say anything about the bruises across her hips - he was strangely ok with the marks of other men on her body, even though she tried to avoid them if she could. She had a scar from Kiichi's raking claws, and didn't want a repeat performance. Then again, he had his own telltale signs of recently being with someone else - if he moved just right she could see a scratch mark across his collarbone in his v-neck.

Brian brushed his fingers along the back of her arm as he walked out toward the french doors that led to the back porch. Barefoot, she paced behind him, spinning a pack of Norwegian cigarettes in her hands.

“This is a fucking nice place, Brian. Seriously.”

“I wish you could spend more time here,” He murmured, lighting her cigarette before she folded herself into his arms, leaning against a wooden high-top with an ash tray on it.

“Maybe someday I’ll have money. Can split time between the coasts.”

“No thoughts to move to Cali?”

“We can’t right now. Not with Rhys coming on full time. He just has to finish his degree up.” One day, they would both run out of excuses. Finn paused to take a deep pull of smoke, and wrapped both arms around his waist tightly. “Bri?”

“What is it?”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But… Why did you and Michelle break up?”

His arms tightened around her chest and he touched his lips to the top of her head, quiet. She listened to the quiet cascade of water from the pool and the louder rush of waves from the beach for a minute, letting calm wash over her.

“It's a long story and a lot of it's my fault. We shouldn't have gotten married in the first place.” Finn stayed quiet, pulling her cigarette to her lips. “I was never faithful, she was never really that kind.”

“Kind?”

“Yeah, when we finally ended it Matt asked me if we had even liked each other to begin with.”

“Jesus. This is his sister in law?”

“Yep.” He snubbed his cigarette out behind his back and rested his hand on top of her head. “Ask me more later. I need a drink.”

“What are we drinking?” She pulled back so she could look up at him, searching his face. It was almost as if talking about his ex-wife aged him, he looked tired. Much more so than when they had walked out on the patio. Maybe it was the lack of a smile.

“What do you want?” His hand slipped down from the top of her head to wrap around her neck, holding her as he brushed a thumb over her cheek. “I got you that grapefruit stuff you like,”

Finn smiled brightly, standing on her tiptoes to touch the tip of his nose with her lips.

“They guys wanted to come over and have a fire. Val says the kids are staying with her sister so she can get fucked up,” Brian mentioned as he made drinks in his kitchen. Finn jumped up on the counter, toes dangling as she kicked her feet. The guitarist looked at her with a raised eyebrow, as if to ask her why she was on his countertops. In response, the lavender-haired woman stuck her tongue out at him. He had spent enough time with her in Boston to know that she habitually sat on counters, and that his carrara marble wasn’t immune.

“I mean, that sounds like fun. So the guys and their… women?” She asked as he presented her with her drink. Finn took a gulp as he nodded and set the drink beside her, reaching for his hair so she could run her hands through it. She had never met the “ladies of Avenged” as they were called on social media, and the thought made her nervous.

“What time is it, anyway?” Brian took her phone out of her hands and set it to the side, his lips hot on hers. His hands slid up her sides, pulling off her shirt as he kissed her, letting it slide between their lips before he set back on her again. She managed to free him of his shirt before his hand buried in her hair, the other pulling at her shorts. He set his phone next to hers, pulling his cigarettes out as well. “What are you up to?”

As soon as she asked, the black-haired man threw her half-naked body over his shoulder with a grin. She shrieked with shock, pounding on his back as he yanked her shorts down, stepping out of his.

“Brian!” She shrieked with a giggle, beating his back with her fists as he stepped out onto the deck. She began to realize what he meant to do. “Brian! I'm allergic to chlorine!”

Laughing, she felt him start to toss her through the air, trying to grab at his body as she left his arms with another scream. She managed to tip him off balance anyway and he toppled in after her with a shout as he crashed into the water next to her. Finn pulled herself out of the water to sit on the white bricks beside the pool, giggling even though she knew she would probably break out in hives soon.

Brian popped up between her legs, his hands on her thighs to pull his lips to hers.

“It’s salt water, sweetie.” His breath was hot on her skin, and he slowly pulled her back into the water, his feet braced against the wall of the pool.

“God it's been years since I fucking swam,” She floated on her back in the warm water, wondering how many of the neighbors cared to peek over the tall fence. “And I've never skinny dipped,” She added, straightening to tread water in the deep end. Brian was nowhere to be found.

“The fuck?”

Finn didn't think to look down under the water, not until something snatched at her leg and dragged her under. Her eyes were screwed shut against the stinging salt water, her arms flailing to drag herself back above the water when a pair of lips pressed themselves to her. Brian's body fitted to hers under the water and he bounced their heads out of the water, balancing on his toes as she was too short to hold herself up.

“Mmm, were you saying something?” He asked, bouncing to slightly shallower water where his feet could rest flat on the ground. She shifted, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“Thought you were trying to kill me.”

“Man, I would never,” He murmured, his lips against the underside of her chin. “Why would you accuse me of such a thing?”

His lips were tender on her neck as she rose above him, settling herself above his hard dick, letting him part her lips just slightly. He had a tendency to turn her into an exhibitionist, she found.

“We shouldn't. Not in the pool, babe.” Finn grumbled good naturedly and was about to pull away when he slowly started to push inside her, tantalizingly slipping in halfway. The lavender-haired woman groaned as he brushed his lips against her throat, giving her three hard thrusts before he pushed away.

“Damn,” She breathed, leaning back to float on her back.

“You know that thing you do to me all the time?” She leaned her head up a little out of the water - as much as she could while floating - and raised an eyebrow. “That lovely teasing thing you do.”

“Don't have a clue what you're talking about,” He wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her back into the water. His fingers snuck down between her legs, slipping one inside her as he rubbed her clit with a thumb.

“We’ll see how long that lasts,” Brian's voice was dangerously low as he teased her, pulling away after a minute. She watched, her face halfway in the water as he climbed out and disappeared behind a wooden wall. Confused, Finn leaned on the wall with her arms up on the wall, her chin rested on her palms. After a moment, she heard water running and Brian popped his head from around the divider.

“Coming?”

Finn popped up out of the water, bracing herself in her hands with a grin as she got her feet under her to cross the deck.

Haner stood under a jet of water, covered in suds.

“Never skinny dipped. Never fucked in a pool. Never been in an outdoor shower.” Finn ticked off her fingers as Brian handed her the loofah in his hand, rinsing as she scrubbed the salt water off her skin. As the water ran down her back, taking the salt and soap with it, his hands ran down her sides.

Brian pushed her against the wooden wall, scooping her up underneath her thighs as he pushed into her in one smooth motion. She gasped, her head thrown back against the wood.

He pushed her to the edge again, but pulled back at the last moment, chuckling as he kissed her throat as she protested.

“Fuck, Brian,” Frustrated, she took the towel he offered her, patting her body dry before she wrapped it around her hair.

“Not liking a taste of your own medicine?” He asked with a laugh, running his hands over her hips. “Payback’s a bitch, Finby.”

“When are people coming over?”

“Probably like six or seven.” He paused, opening the sliding glass door as he stared at her in the sun. “Oh, you think I'm going to let you finish before then?”

“Fucking dick,” She murmured. He threw her down on the couch, rubbing himself between her legs as he slowly pushed in and out of her. “God damn it,”

Finn realized he was running his hand up and down his shaft just as he came inside her, right at the edge of her, pushing himself all the way inside her again. Swearing, Finn let her head fall back against the couch, but snapped back up again as Brian scooped her up and carried her to his bed.

“How bad do you want it?” He asked, his hands hard against her hips as he braced them against the bed. She tried to curl her feet under her to brace herself against his thrusts but couldn't find purchase.

“God damn it Brian,” The black-haired man had the audacity to laugh at her as she begged and with a growl she reached for his neck, pulling his lips to hers.

“I don't know, Finn,” She swore at him, if only to keep herself from actually devolving to begging as he came inside her again.

“Babe, please,” Her hoarse whisper surprised her as she held his head in her hands. Not as surprising, though, as him flipping both of them over, leaning back with his hands behind his head.

“Come on, sweet, before company gets here,” She could have slapped that arrogant grin off his face but instead she kissed him as she rode him. It was a matter of moments before she felt that explosion building and finally released it onto him.

It had been weeks since she had last had him, probably a month. The exertion left her panting on his chest, blissful fingers wrapped in his damp hair.

“Fuck,” He let out a low whistle beneath her as he wrapped his arms around her gently, holding her tight against his chest. “I love you, woman,”

“I love you too, dick,” She smiled weakly against his chest, holding him as tightly as she could as he laughed underneath her.

“What, you didn't like that?”

“Drove me absolutely batshit, Haner. You made me beg for it. Do I look like a woman who begs?” She murmured with a laugh, climbing off of him reluctantly to pace to the bathroom.

He made as if to follow as the doorbell rang - and closed the door, swearing, as voices carried down the hall.

“Haner! Findlay! I know you're here!”

“Go ahead and make yourself at home, asshole,” Brian called to the singer as he walked toward the bedroom door. “Let's shower, babe,”

“I need those shorts out there,” She murmured, staring at his shower, working on the hot to cold ratio. Brian grabbed a towel off the rack, wrapping it around his waist before he walked out into the living room. Finn rolled her eyes as she heard Matt protest his nudity - along with a female voice she didn't recognize.


	2. Chapter 2

“Refill?”

She gazed up at the guitarist as his tattooed palm settled over the top of her glass and nodded. Brian had basically helped Finn to a chair by the fire pit like a grandma and left her as he and the singer started working on the fire. He pressed his lips to her temple as he relieved her of the glass, walking inside to where Val was mixing drinks. She got the feeling the blonde didn't really like her - maybe had something to do with the fact that her boyfriend used to be married to her sister.

“She’ll come around,” Matt said as if he could read her thoughts. She must have looked over at him in shock, because he followed up with another mind-reader type statement. “Finn. Honestly. It's so easy to read your fucking face.”

She glowered at him, watching as he tended to the fire. He looked as if he belonged there, some sort of hipster pyro in jeans, a white shirt and one of his usual red flannels. She considered mentioning to him that the police had confiscated his from her and never given it back, but figured that wouldn’t go over well with his wife. That kind of overtly flirtatious behavior was reserved for tours, where it was much more harmless than when a wife might be around.

“Just don't hold it against her, Finn. It's not you she's upset with.” Matt looked up at her, throwing the stick he used to prod the fire into it. “I mean, I married her and I think she's fucking awesome so you should too.”

“Matt, really,” Findlay lit a cigarette, letting it dangle between her lips as she pocketed the lighter. “I'm not a nutjob.”

“Yeah but I've never met a woman you've gotten along with,” He countered, snatching the smoke for a deep puff. She raised her eyebrows as he handed it back. “What? I used to smoke.”

Findlay rolled her eyes as she accepted the drink Haner offered her.

“Yeah, but not any more, right daddy?” Matt's wife sounded like she was only half-mocking the father of her children as she leaned to hug Finn. The woman was almost frighteningly blonde, with big brown eyes and a bright smile, wearing jeans and a tank top. “I hear you might not want to stand for a bit, so hi! I'm Val. I've heard so much about you!”

“Oh lord, what kind of stories have you boys been telling her?” Finn asked the pair of grins as the blonde sunk into the seat next to her, snagging a cigarette from her pack. Brian stood behind her, rubbing her shoulder with one hand, a drink and a cigarette in the other.

“Only the worst ones, right Matt?” She glared up at his lopsided grin. “Where's everyone else?”

“Zacky and Meaghan are waiting for the sitter.” Val offered, reading from her phone. “I can't imagine Johnny and Lacey should be on their way. Brooks… I have no fucking clue.”

She breathed in from her cigarette, waving her hand at the group.

“But the front door is unlocked so I'm sure you don't have to worry,” Matt quipped, poking at Haner over Finn's shoulder. “You guys really shouldn't leave it unlocked when you're fucking, you know,”

“Oh, fuck you Matt,” Finn's sentiment was echoed by the guitarist above her shoulder, but both grinned impishly. “It's been a while, you know. I think we deserved some us time.”

“Yeah but I find it hard to imagine you two are starved for sex,”

“You'd be surprised,” Brian murmured, bending to kiss the top of Finn's head. She smiled warmly up at him, reaching to touch his chin with her finger.

“God you two are sickening,” Val teased, poking Haner’s elbow. “Young love, right daddy?”

“Whatever you say, mommy-o.”

“Fuck you two never should have reproduced,” Zacky's familiar voice called from the sliding glass door, and Finn turned in her seat to smile at the guitarist and his wife.

“Sup Zack?”

“Sup stand in?”

“Dick!”

“You're not gonna come give me a hug? Meet my wife? Who's the real dick here?”

“Brian.” Val contributed as she hugged Meaghan and guided her over to Finn's chair as the woman laughed. “Finn, Meaghan. Meg, Findlay filled in for Zacky on tour when he came back here,”

“God, thanks for that Finn. Nice to meet you!” Was every woman in California blonde, Finn mused with a smile as the former model bent to hug her. To be fair, she was naturally a shade of the color, but these women looked like they put a lot of effort into their blondeness. And made Finn feel like she should have put on more makeup than just a swipe of mascara after she got out of the shower. She mentioned this to Brian as he passed her another refill - acting for all the world like he was sorry for what he had done to her in the hours prior - but the black-haired guitarist smiled and bent down to kiss her.

“You’re the most beautiful woman here,” He murmured quietly into her ear as his bandmates and their wives chatted amongst each other, ignoring their brief PDA. His ability to read her mind was sometimes unnerving - how had he known she was feeling self-conscious?

It was almost half an hour before Johnny and Lacey showed up, and the group were at least a drink and a half in. Lacey wasn’t blonde but somewhere between brown- and red-headed, Finn noted, and was much, much shorter than her contemporaries, which was good for Johnny.

“Where the hell were you guys?” Brian asked, as the pair settled into chairs.

“Do you fucking know how hard it is to bone with a toddler around? You are the only person here I have to explain that to, Brian. Ah, you too Finn, my bad.” Johnny flipped off the bouffant-haired guitarist who grinned like he knew exactly why they were so late and just wanted to rub it in.

“Avoid that as long as you can,” Val’s aside was a stage whisper, looking over at Finn with wide eyes.

“You have two, Valary!”

“And so do you, Matthew!”

“Then why do you want a third?” The singer shot back over the petite guitarist’s head. She regretted sitting so far from her lover - she knew how to get along with guys, but she had no barometer on their relationships with their wives. Was this normal or awkward? Everyone else laughed but was it nervous or actually funny?

Finn watched the exchange between the pair wide-eyed, if only to keep from looking sad about the subject matter. Across the fire, Brian patted his lap, and the petite guitarist crawled out of her seat to cross to him with her effects, tucking her head under his chin. She felt him shake his head just a little and pursed her lips, breathing in deeply.

“You're fine Finn. You don't have to say anything.” He quietly preempted her explanation under the prying eyes of his bandmates and their wives, stroking her hair gently.

“No, I'm happy to not talk about our spawn for a night. Can we make sure I don't think about them either?” Lacey was laughing to the left of her husband as the bassist hopped out of his chair.

“I have just the thing for that!” Finn listened to Johnny go inside as the rest of the guys mused about what he was getting - as if it were insanely difficult to guess. Brian ran his fingers under Finn's chin, tilting her face to his.

“You alright?” With a sigh, the lavender-haired girl unraveled her legs and sat up straight, an arm still around his shoulders.

“I'm a drama queen, I'm sorry.”

“You're not,” His voice was barely a whisper, and the rest of the band ignored their conversation as if it wasn't happening at all, thankfully.

“But I've known this for twenty some-odd years,”

“That's not like it makes it any easier. I've known I'm too immature to have kids my entire life and that's never gotten easier.” He joked lightly, kissing her cheek. “It's people's expectations of you. It never gets easier to have to actively ignore them.”

“You're right.” She sighed against his shoulder and moved as if to stand. He wrapped his tattooed arms tightly around her hips, squeezing her to his lap as Johnny came back with his prize.

“Haner, it was awfully hard to find your stash,” He joked, tossing the weed at the pair of guitarists. Finn caught it in one hand, giving it a sniff before she put it in Brian's tattooed palm.

“Did you grab a piece? So I have to get up and dig one out for you?” He asked, as if he knew what the answer was before he even opened his mouth. With a sigh, he nudged the lavender-haired woman off his lap and disappeared into the house, walking as if he was a little tender himself.

Finn stayed in his chair, knowing that if she moved back across the fire she'd get a scowl from the bouffant-haired guitarist.

“Ok but for those of us who aren't in the know, care to fill us in about you, Finn?” Lacey asked, leaning forward as she swiped her long blonde hair into a ponytail. “And for the record, I do not read the interviews.”

“Neither do I.” Val shook her head. They were good at this, Finn mused, fiddling with the bag Brian had left in her lap.

“What, you guys don't want to know what's going on?” Meaghan interjected, her fingers twined in her husbands over the arms of their chairs. Finn reached for a cigarette to light, if only to do something with her hands.

“I mean, I only read mine because we don’t have a publicist,” She offered with a shrug. “Nobody likes reading their interviews,”

“Except Haner, he gets a kick out of it,” Zacky contributed as the man in question returned from inside with a pair of bowls. Findlay inspected one as he packed the other - it was shaped like an elephant, much to her delight.

“I do get a kick out of it. Because I say shit to piss people off and somehow they still like me.”

“We’ll never understand it, Brian. Truly.” Meaghan sounded as if she actually did not like the black haired guitarist, who shot her a winning smile as he stuffed the last of the weed into one of the pieces.

Finn had to stand so he could sit back underneath her and crossed her legs over the arm of the chair as he smoked out of the elephant. He held it out for her to hit, chewing on his lower lip with his eyes half closed as she pressed her lips to the piece. She passed the piece to Matt’s waiting hand and leaned her head against his chest, letting her eyes slip shut for a moment as he stroked the side of her arm gently with a pair of calloused fingertips.

“Findlay, you didn’t dodge me that easy,” Lacey called out to the lavender haired guitarist as she exhaled, sitting up straight. Finn fiddled with her rings as she chewed on her lip.

“What do you want to know? I’m a guitarist, I live in Boston, I’m short and have a twin.” She paused, looking at Lacey across the fire. “My hair’s naturally blonde, these aren’t colored contacts, and I’m not actually allergic to the sun.”

“Where are you from, like, originally? Where do your parents live? How many siblings do you have?” Findlay’s eyes widened at the questioning, which would have went on had Johnny not reached over to place a finger over his wife’s lips.

“She used to work for Revolver, I am so sorry Finn.”

“I’ve just… never had such a rapid-fire interview,” She murmured, twisting the rings on her fingers until Haner put a hand over hers. “Uh, Tor and I were born in Georgia, he’s my only sibling, and mom was a crackhead. So not much family to speak of.”

“So that explains your accent! Are you two close?”

“Decently? We’ve lived together for our whole lives.”

“Were you in the foster system?”

“Yes.”

“How did you end up in Boston?” Finn’s head was starting to spin at all the questions - the guitarist was extremely thankful for the distraction of Brian pulling her lips to his for a shotgun with a knowing wink. She clutched at the deep v of his shirt for a moment, breathing as deeply as possible as to not waste any smoke before he pulled away to take a second hit. The action let her sit in silence for a moment, staring at the flames as they danced in the stone pit.

“I went to school there… Wait, are we gonna get food? I haven’t eaten since Norway,” Finn realized with a start.

“Brian, really? You take her off the plane, nearly break her, and then you don’t feed her?” Not shockingly, Meaghan had taken the opportunity to scold the black-haired man, who simply grinned at her. The retaliation seemed to tick her off more, but she was distracted as the bowl came her way.

“What do you want, sweet?” He asked, his fingers tracing the line of her ulna along her tattooed forearm.

“What’s around? Is there Chinese? The Chinese in Europe is absolute shit,”

“Amen, sister,” Matt called, raising his hands in the air as if he was preaching. “Maybe Brooks can pick some up on his way.”

“Is he actually coming?” Zacky asked, checking his phone for the time. “Usually when he’s this late he doesn’t show.”

“If you don’t trust him we can just do delivery,” Brian remarked, shifting to pull his phone out of his pocket, scrolling to his browser to pull up what Finn assumed was a local Chinese joint. “Chinese for Finn, unless anyone objects?” He glanced around the “The motion passes unanimously, go to town Finn,”

Leaning against his chest, Finn scrolled through the menu briefly before she ordered a prodigious amount of food for a tiny human - an egg roll, cream cheese wontons, hunan chicken (designated extra spicy) and a hot and sour soup before she handed the phone back to its rightful owner.

“You gonna eat all of this?” He raised a brow at her as he added to the list - sesame chicken, increased the size of the hot and sour soup, chicken teriyaki - and passed his phone to Johnny.

“I mean, you’re a bachelor. I figure your fridge is empty. I need to eat tomorrow, too.”

“Ass,”

“She’s a smart ass. And I mean that in more ways than one,” Johnny quipped, passing the phone to his wife who immediately passed it to Lacey beside her.

“I’m an asshole who is smart? Or just a smartass? Or my ass is sentient?” Finn questioned, taking the piece back from Matt. It was cashed. With a frown, she looked at Haner, and then to the bowl that stood ready on the edge of the fire pit, asking silently if she was supposed to wait or pass it back around. He shrugged, reaching for his phone from Matt.

“You do you, babe. I’m going to go call this in.”

“Oh my god you are so old, Haner,”

“Yeah, but you’ve got a thing for old dudes, so I guess I’m lucky,” He kissed the side of her cheek as she shot him a sharp look, wondering if he was referencing her thing with Kiichi, but decided not to pursue the thought as she let him up from under her.

“Tension on the homefront?” Matt asked, leaning toward the guitarist as she lit a cigarette, stealing one from her pack to split with his wife.

“I’m not sure. Sometimes I can’t get a read on him.”

“That was definitely a jab, if that helps?”

“Wonderful,” She frowned, considering.

“Something on your mind?”

“Sometimes I wonder if we’re really benefitting from this agreement or if we’re just using it to prolong something that should be over.” She wasn’t exactly sure why she chose that moment to confide in the singer, but it was true. The foundation of the agreement had taken place of her worrying if Brian would leave her or not, in her mind at least. She always had to have something to irrationally worry about.

Matt reached out and flicked her hand surprisingly hard, drawing her out of her thought spiral.

“I had my doubts, Finn, but he’s happier than I’ve seen him.” She waited for him to add ‘in a long time,’ but he didn’t, those green eyes gazing at her as she smoked thoughtfully. “You seem happy, too, don’t take that for granted.”

“Thanks, Matt.” Val pulled at his sleeve for the cigarette, leaning over toward the pair in her chair.

“He’s gonna give great dad advice one day, right?”

“He doesn’t already?”

“They don’t need it yet. When I get my girl, though, she’ll need it.” Finn smiled weakly at Val, wondering why she felt so awkward talking about kids around the guys and their wives. It wasn’t like she ever had a problem talking about it in the past, saying she didn’t want any.

“Did you lose one?” The question pulled Finn out of her reverie in shock, an eyebrow raised at Val.

“I mean… I guess you could argue that?” Now it was Val’s turn to look confused, her brows knitted together. “I can’t have any.”

Her mouth formed an ‘O’ of surprise as the information washed over her, and her frown of confusion turned to sympathy. A pair of hands massaged her shoulder as she stared into the firepit with a dark frown.

“I’m sure that doesn’t bug Haner at all,” Val said with an eye roll. Brian’s grip on the petite guitarists’ shoulders tightened for a moment before he reached for the cigarette between her fingers.

“We’re not talking about that now, Valary. Thanks.” End of story. Findlay made a mental note about the fact that whatever the root of this conversation was, it had gotten him fired up.


	3. Chapter 3

For all her admiration of it the day before, Findlay hated how light and airy Brian’s bedroom was when the sun rose the next morning, streaming through the gauzy curtains. With a groan, she reached for the pillow to pull it over her head, and found that Brian had stolen in sometime in the night to replace the one he had somehow ejected from the bed. How the man only slept with two pillows she would never reason out - and why he threw them around the room in the middle of the night was a whole separate issue.

The lavender-haired guitarist managed to yank the covers up over her head - and away from Brian - with a grunt of exertion, grumbling contentedly as she settled back into bed.

“Hey, leave me some,”

“You took my pillow,” She teased, turning into the downy comforter to take more of it from the black-haired guitarist. “And you snored!”

“Not as bad as you!” He slipped a hand under the comforter and grabbed her arm, pulling her and the mass of covers toward him. “Man I love waking up here with you,”

“Be careful, your sappy side is showing,” She murmured from inside her white cocoon, feeling him wrap his arms around her.

“Don’t tell anyone, ok?” He was pawing at the comforters as he spoke, trying to burrow a way in. “Where the fuck is your head?”

Snickering, Finn retreated deeper into the mass of blankets until her head was about by his feet. Finally, light streamed in from somewhere in the middle of the bundle and his hands met her skin, pulling her out into the morning sun. Findlay groaned, her eyes screwed shut against the brightness gleaming off every surface as the guitarist pulled her to his chest between his calloused palms.

“It was dark in there, I liked it,” Sitting propped up on the pillows, Finn leaned against Brian’s chest and stretched to grab for the comforter with her toes, throwing it over both of their head in complete disregard for the heat. In their impromptu blanket fort, Brian held out his palms in front of the purple-haired guitarist and she wrapped her fingers around them, letting her eyes slip shut as he wrapped both of their arms around her ribs.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” His voice was barely a murmur in the quiet stillness of the bedroom, but he sounded tentative. “Something Val said last night.”

“About kids?”

“About how Val made it sound like I was happy you couldn’t.”

“It did come off kinda like that… Heavy subject matter before I’ve had any coffee, Bri,”

“I wanted to talk to you about it then, I wanted to talk to you about it before bed, so let’s talk about it now.” Finn paused, waiting, her hands wrapped up in his tightly. “I don’t think I want children.”

“So I’ve gathered.”

“But it’s an easy decision because I can’t have kids either.” Finn gave a start, her fingers tightening around his.

“Wait, what?”

“Well, I can’t without medical intervention.” Findlay remained silent, leaning her head back against his shoulder. “That’s why Michelle and I didn’t work out, Finby. Well, one reason at least. She wanted them so fucking bad, and I couldn’t care less. She wanted the procedures and the trying, and I hardly had time. She couldn’t understand why we couldn’t get pregnant easy like Matt and Val did. And when it was my fault, she never let me forget it. So I stopped caring.”

His sigh was deep and shuddering, prompting her to pull his arms tighter around her, as tight as she could. Brian was one of the most level people she had ever met, rarely giving in to fits of emotion, and hearing him bite back on whatever emotion he was feeling was painful to the smaller guitarist.

“Bri,”

“Hang on Finn, we’re almost there. The guys, as far as I know, don’t know this. Val might, the way she looks at me like she pities me and hates me. I'm sure her sister told her. But I don't care about that either. She tried to tie my self worth to my ability to give her kids, I cared about that.” He paused, breathing again for all the world like he was sucking back tears.

“I'm not really interested in getting married again. I love you, you're my partner. But marriage doesn't seem like something I should fight for again. Besides, that shit’s over the second you have to sign a prenup anyway.”

Finn let her brow furrow, wondering what exactly she was supposed to say to that. It wasn't like marriage was something she had spent much time thinking about in her day-to-day life. She had considered it with Brian but then again, for some reason society put responsibility for that decision on the man's shoulders. And they weren't in a place where it was even feasible, relationship-wise. The lavender-haired woman chewed her lip to keep from sighing in frustration, unable to untangle her own thoughts.

“I'm not sure how that factors into your view of us, but I thought it was important to know.”

“Thanks, Brian. That's… like I said, it's a lot to process without caffeine.” He chuckled into her shoulder, her fingers still clasped between his. “I understand, though. Most of it, at least.”

“Sorry for shoveling shit so early. Do you want coffee?”

“Good god yes. And a cigarette and a minute to think about this.”

Brian let go of her hands, letting her unfurl from his lap and the comforter to find clothes in her suitcase. He followed, slipping on a pair of basketball shorts low on his hips as he walked into the kitchen, leaving the bedroom door open. After she dressed in a pair of boy short underwear and a tank top, she leaned in the doorway, watching him as he filled the coffee maker.

Everything he did was with that idea of ease he had on stage with his guitar. Even filling the coffee maker was elegant. She tapped a finger to her lips pensively before she grabbed her cigarettes off the table, walking out onto the back porch to survey the carnage from the night before.

There was surprisingly little, she found, the adults were adept at cleaning up after themselves and there was a full trash bag next to the fire pit. Surprising, after having seen how Avenged kept their backstage green rooms. She guessed it was the presence of the women that kept the boys “tame.”

Finn leaned against the table, lighting a cigarette and watching as Brian moved around in the kitchen. The man always found new and exciting ways to shock her, she mused, trying to figure out this newest and most exciting curveball. They had been dating for just over six months and he called her his partner? Matt had declared that Brian was happier than he had seen him before, but the man would never marry her? How important was marriage to her, anyway? She had never seen a healthy one - the exception being the guys and potentially Kiichi, though she knew next to nothing about any of their home lives.

He didn't say anything when he walked out onto the porch, a pair of coffee cups in his hand and his cigarette between his lips. He monkey-fucked it off hers before he passed her a mug of coffee that was far too hot to drink and sat on one of the bar stools in silence. They watched each other as they smoked, waiting for their coffee to cool, but even the smell helped her wake up.

“What's on your mind?” Brian asked finally, as she reached for her mug. The lavender-haired guitarist held up a single finger, asking him to wait as she tested for heat and took a long swallow. “Wow, I didn't realize how dependent you were on caffeine, sweet.”

“Yeah well. Eighteen years in foster care will do that to you,” She murmured after a second gulp before she began to address his question. “Brian,”

He crossed his legs as if preparing himself for whatever she was about to say, looking at her over a sip of his own coffee. They both liked it black - black as her soul, Finn would say - and it really made the cooling time lag.

“Well. My first thought was about the tail end of what you said. That I'm your partner. And I was like - huh, we've been together for, what, six months? Maybe seven? That's a heavy term.” He remained silent as she spoke, nodding, his face unreadable. “But I liked it.”

She sighed, reaching to ash her cigarette.

“Commitment phobe me liked that. Commitment phobe me liked that you don't want to be married again. That contract terrifies me. Sharing all my shit lawfully terrifies me. You don't want to be married, that doesn't change my perspective of our relationship at all.

“I'm most worried about why you wouldn't tell me that… well, that you have the same problems.”

“Findlay, it took me a month to tell you I'd even been married.” He sighed deeply, snubbing out his cigarette in the ash tray. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I shoot blanks. I didn't think it should matter. I would still love you even if you were fertile Myrtle.”

“I'm sorry, Bri. I didn't mean to snap.” She reached for his hand, folding himself into his lap with her coffee in hand. “All of my past relationships have ended very quickly after they found out why I have scars. You… you're still here. I thought it was because you've fucking seen it all.”

“I remember you said guys would leave after the novelty wore off. The novelty’s not gonna wear off for me, Finby. I love you because you fucking throw me through a loop every time you open your fucking mouth.”

Findlay kept her mouth shut as if to prove him wrong.

“My point exactly. More coffee?”

“I'll go get it.” She stood, leaning to snub out her cigarette and grab his mug. She didn't realize he had followed her into the kitchen until she was refilling the mugs with a hand braced against the counter, and his fingers closed over hers on the pitcher.

“Finby. Are you ok?”

“Overwhelmed.”

He backed away, leaning on the counter with a hand out for a new cup of coffee. Finn had always appreciated his respect of her when she admitted she was overwhelmed - something she was certainly still learning to recognize herself - he would give her space, or get close if she asked for it. She handed him his mug and held her’s under her nose, breathing in the grounds.

“I'm ok, babe. Really.” She tentatively reached her fingers out to him and he enveloped her hand in his without hesitation, setting his coffee aside.

“I'm sorry sweet. I didn't mean to drop all that on you before nine in the morning.”

“Fuck it's not even nine?!” Her head whipped around to stare at the microwave clock in disbelief. That must have been why her head had hurt so bad! “God damn it Brian, what the hell?”

“You were the one who woke up, baby,” He drew her into his chest with a laugh, forcing her to abandon her coffee and wrap her arms around his ribs.

“I love you, Bri.”

“I love you so much, Finby.”

“So what are we doing today?” She asked after a quiet moment, reaching for her mug behind her. Her hips ground against his for one tantalizing moment as she reached.

“I was thinking of going surfing.” Findlay grimaced as he rubbed his hand down her arm reassuringly. “It's fun, I'll teach you.”

“Get in the ocean? Like, the deep part? Who knows what's down there?”

“Oh you'll fucking love it. I'm sure you'll be good at it.” Findlay murmured something about his unending faith in her athletic abilities as the man laughed, scrubbing his hand through his deflated, shaggy mohawk.

“Whatever. When do we do that?”

“We can go down whenever. Did you bring a suit?”

“I brought that one we got in Europe.” It was literally the only swimsuit she had, truthfully, and it was pretty plain.

“Hm. I like that one,” He kissed her temple, and she let her eyes slip shut as she leaned against him, her tattooed palm touched to his.


	4. Chapter 4

An hour later, Finn found herself standing on the beach in her bikini and one of Brian's “surf shirts,” staring out at the waves. The shirt was ridiculously huge on her but was supposed to prevent rashes and chafing from the wax on the board, and it covered her scarred abdomen. She understood the theory but wasn't sure about the practice - Brian's fit him much more closely than it fit her.

She was also flabbergasted that instead of just walking into the ocean in his backyard, they had to take the truck to a different beach that was apparently better, a few minutes up the road. Finn had commented on how pretty the coast was, even if she was slightly confused as to why they could only surf in certain parts of it. This launched an explanation from Brian that had almost bored her to tears about the importance of the shape of the coastline to wave formation.

Finn piled her hair on top of her head in a messy bun, securing it out of her face in the gentle breeze that wandered up the beach.

“I don't know Bri, I've got the heebies just thinking about what's down there.”

“You'll be fine. I won't grab your feet until you get the hang of it.” The man grinned brightly, reaching for her hand to squeeze. She got the feeling that he was basically some sort of merman - born by and of the water, totally comfortable with it while Finn was completely sketched out by the entire idea. To be fair, she had grown up landlocked in Atlanta, and when she lived on the water it was in fucking Boston which was not a place anyone wanted to go swimming.

“Thank god for that.”

After a quick lesson on the basics, Finn sat on the beach, watching Brian tear around in the waves. He was halfway decent from what she could tell, and she was content to sit and watch him rather than join the fray herself. Six months ago, she could have never imagined that her fling with the dark-haired guitarist would have evolved into what it had - where she was sitting watching him surf, staying at his house for two weeks, public displays of affection and whispered I love yous. She sighed and fell to her back into the warm sand, her eyes closed against the California sunshine, feeling lucky and warm. The lavender-haired guitarist was definitely risking a sunburn simply by existing in Cali, so why not embrace it?

She must have dozed off in the warm sand, because Brian startled her when he sat down beside her, digging the tip of his board into the ground so it stood at attention on its own.

“Do you want to go in?” He asked as she sat up, gazing down at her with his tawny eyes. He was panting and dripping wet, his hair plastered to his head. She chewed her bottom lip, hating to disappoint him, but she had absolutely no desire to get in the water that morning. With a pounding headache from the sun and the hangover, there was a 110% chance she would humiliate herself.

“Will it make you happy?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

“Maybe tomorrow. It was fun watching you though,”

“You took a nap!”

“I watched you for a long time,” She protested as he gave her a hand up off the sand, holding her to his body for a kiss.

Findlay carried the unused board back to the truck with the bouffant-haired guitarist, whose hair had started to stand up with the power of the salt and stiff breeze.

“You're quiet today,” Brian mused as she curled into the front seat, tucking her still slightly-sandy feet under her.

“We've got a band decision to make,” She said by way of explanation, reaching for his hand where it dangled over the center console. She had read Tor’s text before they got to the beach, but hadn’t mentioned it because the older guitarist had seemed so excited about surfing. He shot her a questioning look, mindful of the traffic in front of them. “Tor wants to start playing onstage. Says it'll free me up to do more. I… don't know if he's good enough.”

Finn sighed, leaning her head back against the seat. The truth of her reasoning was heavy, and something she had only admitted to Brian. Even the rhythm sections of their older music were complex, and even though she had been the one to teach him to play, he didn't have the benefit of years of experience. Some singers could do it. A lot couldn't. It wasn't a decision they were going to be able to make overnight, as Tor seemed to think they could.

“Why the sudden interest?”

“I think it's been percolating for a while.” Finn screwed her eyes up, as if she wouldn't be vexed by the problem if she couldn't see it. “I think he likes the way it looks, to be completely honest. I can see the benefits and the blowback.”

“I mean, it's hard for me to sit here and say it's a bad thing, having two guitarists,” He mused as they pulled into a grocery store parking lot. She shot him a questioning look as they parked and started to climb out of the truck. “Oh, yeah, we need liquor, the guys drank us dry. Anyway, have you laid out the pros and cons? Actually on paper, anyway?”

“No I haven't.” Why would she? God he was so fucking old, she mused with a laugh. Technically, he was a late generation x-er and she a middle of the pack millennial, and as a result their problem solving skills were completely different. It could be helpful, at times, but other times frustrating as she found him unable to understand where she was coming from and how she rationalized her decisions. Though that wasn't to say it wasn't a two-way street.

“Let's do that when we get back home.” He reached for her fingers as they walked through the parking lot. “You don't have to stop talking about it, Finn, we’re just going to hang with a pen and paper.”

“I think my biggest concern is that our sound is going to change. Tor doesn't think it will but I have to write this shit knowing he'll be able to play.”

“Yeah, you play way up the neck a lot,”

“Exactly. So that I can get a melody and meat together. It might not be a bad thing, it could flesh us out a lot, but…”

“You built a lot on the back of your being a solo guitarist. I understand. Changing up your sound is hard.” He handed her a bottle of her favorite vodka and retrieved whiskey for himself. They moved into the mixers section. God bless California for selling liquor in their grocery stores.

“You've been here. But I'm sure that Matt wasn't standing there going ‘don't worry, Bri, it'll be so easy,”

“Probably because Matt doesn't call me Bri,” He joked dryly, smiling at the cashier and they made their way up to pay. “You'd have your work cut out for you if you wanted to go back in your old songs to make something for him to play.”

“I think part of my agreement might have to be that it's a moving forward thing, not a back cataloguing thing.” Finn crawled back into the passenger's seat - Brian had whipped them in and out of the store so fast she felt as if she had teleported.

“Probably for the best. It's hard for Matt to sing our old stuff - he had to find a way around that.”

“Y'all were a little more supportive than I am at the moment,”

“Had to be. He was about to blow out his voice. And then where would we be?”

“Tor mentioned he wants me to sing more.” Findlay recalled, holding the seatbelt across her chest with both hands as if to defend herself from backlash that aside.

“Jesus, what're you guys going to do next, add a keyboardist?” Brian's joke was dry, almost humorless as he drove. “You can sing, Finn, for all you say you can't. He wants to play more so it makes sense,”

“Does it? Soon we're just gonna be new Mastodon,”

“Doubt it, they're a little softer, more melodic than you. You guys got that math rock vibe. If you let Tor play there's room to really flesh out your sounds. I wouldn't see it as a bad thing, babe.”

Findlay grumbled at him as she climbed out of the truck, pulling the shopping with her.

“You're probably right. Do people know you're such an optimist or do you keep that to yourself?”

Brian kissed her cheek as he unlocked the front door of his little house, having parked the truck on the street. She had been visiting for less than twenty four hours, but already she felt at home in his beautiful house. She set the bag on the counter as the taller man reached over her shoulder to start to put its contents away.

“I think people definitely get an optimistic vibe off me, for sure.” Finn tilted her head back to kiss the hollow of his throat as she joked - all she could reach on flat feet. He ran a hand through her hair, holding her face to his chest for a fleeting moment before he reached to put the alcohol away.

“So are you keeping the alcohol on the top shelf because you need to Findlay-proof your kitchen?” She asked with a laugh, passing him the bottle of grapefruit vodka to add to the collection.

“Yes, I have lived my life in anticipation of this moment. The moment when my exceptionally short partner came to visit. When I bought this house, I thought - how will I most effectively inconvenience a tiny rockstar later in life?”

Findlay stuck her tongue out at the black-haired guitarist, stripping off her borrowed shirt to deposit on the counter. He pointed at the bureau against the far wall, indicating he wanted her to open the drawer.

“Pen and paper. Go get it.” She lifted an eyebrow at the guitarist, poised to hop onto the countertop. “I’m serious, Finn, it’ll help.”

With a sigh, she crossed the room to the bureau, pulling open drawers until she found the one he was talking about. While her drawers at home were crammed with stuff she couldn’t bring herself to toss mixed with shit she actually needed, his were spartan, containing what seemed like the essentials. Finn was still trying to reconcile the dichotomy of his lifestyle and home, the chaotic and meticulous sides of Brian. It didn’t make a world of sense to her, but then again, she hadn’t had to try awfully hard to keep her private and public life separate to date. She didn’t have the level of fame he did, and certainly hadn’t been famous as long.

Finn paced back to the kitchen, sitting up on the countertop with her legs crossed, the notebook perched on her knee. Brian opened it, taking the pen from between her fingers as he flipped through pages of his neat cursive to the first blank sheet of paper. He folded it in half, writing Pro and Con at the bottom of the page - upside down in the margins of the page. It always tweaked her inner perfectionist when he wrote upside down in his notebooks - which was probably why he did it at all - so she leaned back onto the countertop to keep herself from complaining, staring at the ceiling instead of at the wrongness of the page.

“I’m writing down the ones we talked about in the car.” She felt the pressure of his hand on the notebook balanced on her leg as he wrote god-knew-what in his neat cursive. “Back catalogue - as in, potential rewrites. Tor’s skill. Changing sound. Potential singing?”

“All Cons.”

“I’m putting changing sound in pro too. And potential singing. I think you’ll like it, Finby.”

“Fine. Put Tor’s ego as a con.”

“Ok, but I’m putting your ego as a pro.” Finn stuck her tongue out at the man, but since she was laying flat on her back on his counter, stuck her tongue out at the ceiling instead. He pinched her side just hard enough to smart in response.

“You’d definitely have to find a tech if it were both of you. You can’t tune Tor onstage,”

“I coulda kept tuning you on stage but Mike got angry! Fine, put ‘budgeting for tech’ down under con. But having a tech as a pro.”

“I added time to show off. Because you absolutely should, Findlay. You’re twice the guitarist I was when I started out.”

“You were, what, nineteen? I was twenty-two and had gone to school for fucking guitar. I teach guitar. That’s not a fair barometer at all.”

“When did you learn to play?” He set the notebook down by her knee so he could run his calloused hand up her leg. He knew the answer to the question, so she could feel him gearing up to make a point.

“Guitar? I learned violin when I was, like,three or four. Then bass and guitar in… high school?”

“Dad’s a guitarist. I learned to play when I was five. I think the playing field is decently level there, sweet.”

“Ass.”

“But seriously, Finn. Why do you always shoot down your playing? You don’t have to be humble, you sell records with that.”

“I guess it’s something I should work on, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I don’t believe you will.” His hand slipped under the small of her back it’s way between her shoulderblades. He drew her up to sit, a leg on either side of his waist. “Don’t sell yourself short.”

“You’re persistent, you know that?” Finn asked, staring into his tawny eyes. He didn’t flinch, only raised an eyebrow. “Well, I guess Synyster fucking Gates is telling me I’m awesome, I better believe him.”

“I’m an authority on such things,” He joked, kissing the bony summit of her shoulder, letting his lips linger against her skin. “Alright, kid, I gotta get a little work done today.”

“Yeah, yeah. I should probably call Tor.”


	5. Chapter 5

Finn paced back and forth on the phone with her brother. The pacing was so bad that Brian had told her to go outside - maybe the angry shout that had reverberated through the house had been a contributing factor - citing the fact that he couldn’t get any work done.

So she paced, barefoot in jean shorts and a bikini top, listening to Tor explain for the hundredth time why he thought stepping up as a rhythm guitarist was a good idea.

“Seriously Finn. What do I have to do to prove to you I can?”

“Tor, I know exactly how good with a guitar you are. I’m just not sure that it’s feasible.”

“It’s moving forward, Finn. I’m not taking the old shit from you. Though it would be nice to have our back catalogue split someday,”

“Write me a song.”

“What?”

“Write me a song. A sample of what you want to do here. Just guitars. I want to know that you are aware of exactly what you’re asking me to do. It’s adding a whole new instrument to what we already have written for the next album.”

“I can do that. But Finn? Focus on moving forward. Not the shit you already wrote, and I know you keep worrying about that. We need to take this step. We need the depth. Rhys is more technical than Jay ever was, and I think this will help us evolve.”

“You keep saying that but I’m just not sure if it’s adding for the sake of adding, Toric. We have a great, technical sound. It’s dirty and difficult when it needs to be but overall not too complicated. I think that’s what sells us.”

“And I think what sells us is you, Finn.”

“That’s a little offensive,” It was definitely harder to talk to her twin when she couldn't see his very telling facial expressions. Neither twin had a great poker face with the other, which was probably part of the reason they got along so well.

“Not your body, you ass. Your writing. I think this is the next step for you, too. And we need to do it before you get bored.”

“Write the fucking song, Tor.” Finn hung up on him, standing with her arms crossed and her phone tapping against her lips. Tor might have had a point about boredom. Findlay hadn't felt it yet - potentially due to touring and her romance with Brian - but it had to be coming. It always came, for her. The addition of another guitarist in her brother and more vocals would certainly be a challenge.

Frowning, Finn set her phone down on the table and reached for a cigarette. She perched on the edge of the table, her feet dangling above the white bricks. Would it be too much too soon? What if they alienated their fans? Still frowning, she leaned back over the edge of the table and kicked her feet pensively, watching the smoke drift into the air above her.

Teaching Tor would be a challenge, certainly. But it could be fun to have backup on stage, freeing her up to interact more with the crowd and to solo.

After a few moments of thought, she heard the sliding glass door open and a pair of fingers gripped her knee.

“You alright kid?” How did he always know? She looked up at him, her head still flat against the table. “You stopped moving, figured something's up.” He explained. In that moment, Findlay decided that either he was telepathic or she had the worst poker face in the world.

Findlay sighed, one arm draped over her eyes rather dramatically to shield them from the sun.

“What do I do, Brian?”

“You want advice again? Professional or personal?”

“Yes.”

She listened as he lit a cigarette, breathing deeply as he massaged the side of her knee with his thumb. He had to be thinking of what to say first, she mused as she let her feet sway with the beat of a song in her head.

“Professionally I think it's not a bad idea. You'll have to be careful not to change your sound too much too quickly - fans fucking hate that - but you're a rock band. Honestly people are going to love or hate everything you do. And the virtuoso in you deserves more exposure. Personally?” He paused, patting her knee gently. “You're going to do it.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Tor is asking.” Finn snorted at his answer, but somehow, he was right. Tor asked so little of his twin, she would at least consider it, try it out. “The guitar you will do. The singing you might do.”

“I think he really does want to take this in a Mastodon angle. Max singing too.”

“Nothing wrong with that, really. Not many bands can pull it off. And you guys have an eerie thirds thing going on that would lend itself to that. Going back to professional advice, don't do it all in one place or at one time.”

“You know if I tell Tor that he'll just pout… and that I'm not great at taking professional advice.”

She cracked an eye, lifting her elbow just slightly so she could see him out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to be considering laughing at her jab about professional advice - if she took all the professional advice she got, she wouldn't be lying across the table on his deck. The lithe guitarist moved to sit up just as he bent down to kiss her and they smacked foreheads as the table began to tilt to the side under their combined weight. Swearing Brian pushed her down onto her back again and stood as he rubbed his forehead with one tattooed hand.

“Fucking ow,” She murmured, gently touching her fingers to the goose egg rising on her forehead. “Your advice comes at a high price, Haner.”

“Yeah well. For me too,” He offered the smaller guitarist a hang up off the table, pulling her swiftly so it didn't tilt again.

“Can I borrow a guitar?”


	6. Chapter 6

Sitting cross-legged in a chair, Finn read the sheet music Tor had handed her, toe tapping to keep time as she imagined the phrasing in her head, and finally reached for a guitar.

“I figured you could do what you do on top of the rhythm there. I wanted that to be intriguing but not too distracting.”

Frowning, Finn played out the chord progressions before she dug into his notations, finding an interesting staccato variation in his phrasing. Her frown flattened and turned until it was finally a tiny smile of approval at the three anxious faces on the couch, waiting for her judgement. She wasn't sure how Tor had managed to get Max and Rhys on board so quickly, but they backed him wholeheartedly, leaving her to be the only stick in the mud.

“I mean, it's decent Tor. Can you play it? At tempo?”

He reached a hand out for the guitar, which she passed to him by the neck across the living room. Lips pursed, Finn watched as he strummed - slower at first, which she appreciated. Tor was no composer and the classical music background he had was limited to watching her learn as he was coming home from sports practice in school and then when she finally taught him after moving to Boston, so he didn't use time signatures or bpm (or even denote measures) very well in his tablature.

“Ok, ok, fine. Point proven. We can try it.”

Toric’s face lit up like a kid getting a great toy on Christmas, fidgeting with the guitar.

“Ok, so we could do a gig -” He was so earnestly excited that she had a hard time interrupting him. But someone had to be the logical twin, and that job fell to her pretty often.

“Down boy, were not that far yet. I can't just wave my magic wand and make our back catalogue playable for you.” His bright smile darkened as his twin spoke, but he nodded his understanding.

“The about singing-”

“One thing at a time, me bookie.” She held up a finger, quoting Jabba the Hutt. “Don’t throw too much wood on the fire before we get it going.”

“Fine.” Tor seemed happy to have won at least one of his battles, and knew his twin was considering the second. That should appease him, she thought as she watched his fingers flow over the frets, unconsciously playing much like she had a tendency to when she was holding a guitar for no discernable reason.

“Do we have to sell this to the label, too?” She asked, an eyebrow raised at her brother. She knew the answer from the guilty look on his face before he fessed up to it.

“I'd already talked about it with them.”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Toric? Really? Without any input?”

“You were the only one who didn't say yes, Finn, of course I talked to them about it!”

Their tones escalated until the twins were on their feet shouting at each other, leaving Max looking annoyed and Rhys uncomfortable on the couch. Finn didn't focus on her other band mates as she laid into her brother, giving him the roughest side of her tongue as she could manage.

“This is my fucking band too, Toric! You can't just leave me out! We all do equal fucking work!” The argument could be made that she did a lot more than him, but she knew better than to start that fight.

“Maybe you should have fucking been here then! Not running out to California to be with your boy toy at every fucking chance!”

“You do not get to bring Brian into this!” Finn shrieked, stabbing an accusatory finger into his chest. “How many times have I fucking covered for you while you're with some girl or another?”

“Just as many times as I've covered for fucking you!”

The fight devolved into something less than constructive, and their bandmates stepped out onto the fire escape for a cigarette and a good eye-rolling session. Finn knew the bassist was probably informing the drummer that the pair usually resolved their fights pretty quickly, they just needed time to shout it out. And a lot had been percolating over the summer that the had needed a good fight over.

Tor was busy making a point to shout about her fucking weird relationship with Haner, telling her if she wanted to be with other people she shouldn't date. This brought her to a counterpoint on his serial cheating, counting the girlfriends on one hand he hadn't cheated on.

“You don't think I feel bad about it? If I hadn't been so focused on getting laid I would have been there that fucking night, Findlay.”

There it was. He never shouted at her unless he was really angry at himself. If her brother were seriously mad at her, he would talk to her in low, menacing tones. She shouted - she always shouted.

“Toric you fucking maniac, how dare you blame yourself for that?!” Even though her tone was angry, she crossed the living room to wrap her arms around her brother, reaching up so she could draw his head to her shoulders. “Don't say anything. Don't you fucking dare.”

Tor dissolved into her shoulder, his burly arms wrapped alongside her torso, hands on her shoulder blades. She held him, stroking his hair as she stared blankly at the door of the apartments, trying to find some sort of emotion in herself about the incident. It wasn't that she was “over it” - not by a long shot - but after a long summer she was numb to the shock.

“You couldn't have prevented it Tor. It happened. It's over. He's hanging out in Suffolk now. You're not allowed to beat yourself up.”

“That's not gonna stop me,” He murmured into her mass of fading lavender hair, sniffling just once before he straightened.

“There's a lot of shit nobody's going to get over. I know, T. But you can't dwell on it. We've all gotta move on.” Why was she comforting him and not the other way around? Why was he seemingly more upset than she herself was? Finn pushed that line of questioning aside as she hugged her brother, her arms around his ribs.

“Stop being such an adult,” He muttered, patting her head. “You're making me feel bad.”

“That wasn't the goal,” She frowned, but gave him one last squeeze before she pulled away. “Can I tell the guys it's safe to come back?”

“Yeah yeah. Max has something he wants to talk about too, I think.”

Finn tapped on the window, getting the guy's attention, and waved them back in. Max pointed at the couch and Finn sat next to Rhys, the guitar in her hands so she could pick out a solo as Max paced in front of them. Something had him worked up, too. Why was everyone so shady today?

“So like Tor mentioned, we might have been talking to the record company…” Finn tapped on the strings, if only to keep herself from getting nervous from Max’s pacing. Relentless pacing always gave her anxiety. “They mentioned something we thought you might find interesting, Finn.”

“Can we phone me in or something next time y'all go to the label without me? I'm still mad about that, lest we forget.”

“We tried and we couldn't get -”

“Ok, fucking fill me in after, shoot a text. Don't get me wound up about this again, keep going.”

Max sucked in a deep breath and dropped into the chair she had been sitting in earlier, his toes tapping nervously to a staccato drum beat.

“So we were talking to the label and they suggested we start thinking of making a move to the West Coast.” Max’s toes stopped tapping as he stared at Finn. They were all staring at her, she realized, looking around at her bandmates.

“What, you think I’m just going to hop on board with that? Why do they want us to move?”

“Because they want us to record at the vaults in LA,” Their label was the same one who owned Avenged’s souls, so she wasn’t shocked. It was easier to be a recording artist in LA, where the studios were plentiful. It didn’t mean she liked it.

“We’re an east coast band. I work at Berklee for fuck’s sake,” She protested, fingers playing an angry solo.

“Told you she wouldn’t be for it,”

“Shut up, Tor. Did you just assume I’d want to live there because of Brian? Really? Come on, Max, I thought you knew me better than that.”

“I thought you’d want to live there because we’d be recording at Capitol’s vault, Findlay. I thought you knew me better than that,” He shot back, getting to his feet. “Can you pull your head out of your ass, Finn, it’s not always about you!”

Stunned, Finn stared up at the towering bassist, her hands still on the strings of the guitar. Was she being selfish? She loved Brian, sure, but was she trying too hard to compensate for dating the guitarist by lashing out at her bandmates when they suggested something that might be seen as using him in the press? She probably was. With a sigh, she leaned her head back against the couch, holding the guitar loosely in her lap.

“I’m sorry, Max.” She sighed again, running one hand through her hair. “I just… I don’t want this to even look like it’s been given to us. I couldn’t stand that.”


	7. Chapter 7

Three weeks later they were packing boxes. In a month and a half, Finn sat on the floor of the house they had rented - knowing she was half an hour from “work” and half an hour from “play,” aka Brian’s house in Huntington. Her head spun with the suddenness of the move, but she should have seen it coming. The moment that they had mentioned that they would consider the move, Capitol had chomped at the bit to get them out to California. In retrospect, Finn should have forced them to agree to let them record one last album at home.

The record was mainly written - over the last month, she and Tor had started to rip apart their guitar parts, separating and enhancing them to better fit dual guitars. And then they practiced.

Which was what she did at that moment - practicing with the acoustic guitar in her hands. It was meant to make the part more difficult, but she was finding more and more that she preferred the sound of the part of the song she was focusing on with nylon strings. She expressed that to Tor.

“Well, yeah, but it would change the whole song,”

“Doesn’t have to - there’s a part here where I can switch guitars,” She marked on the sheet music with her pencil, “And if you pick up the lead here I wouldn't have to change back. It's the very end, I think it would be cool.”

“You're voluntarily giving me the lead?” Tor asked, a suspicious brow raised. “What are you trying to make up for - what did you do?”

“Doubted. But. Of course I'll record it all myself. You just have to learn it live.” He sighed at her selfish admission, strumming his guitar.

“No such luck with the singing. You have to inch in a little more. You are literally our top end,” Max spoke from his perch on a stool above the pair of guitarists with his bass. Rhys was revising a drum part with a tiny drum machine, headphones plugged in, oblivious.

“I'm still having trouble with how we're not going to sound like Mastodon. Or Atreyu. Any guidance there?” Finn murmured sarcastically. She still wasn't thrilled about switching off singing roles. Guitars, she had grown to enjoy. The singing was more worrisome. Especially since she didn't consider the singers in either of the two groups she mentioned to be especially talented. “I think we're doing it for uniqueness’s sake and I don't like it.”

“So you've said, kid.”

Grumbling about being called a kid by her peers, she settled back into working through the guitar as Tor sought a vocal melody for someone. She noticed that when she gave him the lead, he had flipped the vocals to her name. Shit. Brian had warned her about this.

“What I'm most impressed with is that you, Findlay, have yet to go see loverboy while you've been here,” Rhys called, obviously having heard some of their conversation despite the fact that she thought he had gone deaf.

“Easily answered. He's on tour isn't he?” Tor asked, ever helpful. Finn nodded her answer, focusing on the riff she was reworking. “That's the only explanation. Or we'd have seen him by now. Or at least pictures of them in the tabloids.”

Low blow, Finn mused. Last time she had been out to LA to stay with the guitarist, the pair had ended up in one of the little “scandal” sections of a gossip rag. Surprisingly, they seemed to ignore the fact that Brian was divorced rather than married. And that she had never been romantically tied to anyone but him aside from rumors.

“He's on the east coast,” She murmured, strumming. “Talked to him this morning. He's letting me borrow his truck.”

Max and Tor looked over at her, an eyebrow raised each.

“What? We only have the one car and I'm going crazy. I finally have a bit of money to shop or something and instead I'm trapped in this house!”

The guys rolled their eyes at her openly, and the lavender-haired guitarist set back to her sheet music, ignoring them completely.

The group act of writing together was something they did often enough in Boston - well, Rhys was a little newer at it. But this was the first time the four band members had lived together. The transition wasn't made horribly easy by the fact that it was a multimillion dollar home in Los Angeles, either. While it was nice, it seemed surreal in a way. More than a little shitty house or apartment would have.

Sharing her house with three other men was something she was used to, as well. Tor happened to be the neat freak of the family, so was often the one shouting at the other three to clean up after themselves. Rhys wasn’t around as often as he had been in Boston because there was always fantastic surf this time of year. Max was Max, busy trying to attract anything with two legs.

More often than not she found herself on the couch with her boys, strumming and trying not to pay attention to whatever trash TV they had on in the background. It had a tendency to be difficult not to get distracted - and the deficit in her attention span had been getting so great she had considered going to the doctors to get tested for ADD, but hadn’t had the time as they polished the record, preparing for recording in the coming months. It was probably the weed.

She had taken to refusing recently when the guys offered her a bowl during writing, and had found that she spotted theoretical errors in their music when she was sober, something that disturbed her greatly. The lavender-haired guitarist had spent too much time in practice rooms to fail at implementing proper notations.

The process had become frustrating, to say the least.

“Toric, can you put that down and focus for me? I need you to play it this way.” She demonstrated slowly, her bare foot slapping the floor to keep time for him. The lithe guitarist had kept time for so long she was practically a human metronome. Her twin put the bowl down on the table after a long hit and attempted to mirror her - sloppily.

“Fucking really, man?” Finn glared angrily at her twin, about ready to throw her guitar at him. Her face must have read murder because she found him glaring back, his eyes narrow.

“Fucking what, Finn?”

“What is with you? We move to California and suddenly all you want to do is smoke and veg out? It’s effecting our sound! You’re fucking sloppy and you know it!” Findlay tossed her hair dramatically, staring at Max and Rhys who had chosen to snicker at precisely the wrong moment. “Don’t even get me started on you two! Max, you need to tighten it up again, start using a pick if you have to but you’re getting messy on the bass lines! And Rhys! You. You are better than these lazy fucking fills! I’ve had it!”

Finn stood, leaving her guitar on the couch as she stepped into her Docs, snagging her wallet, keys and phone to shove into her pockets.

“I am leaving,” She laced up one boot, tying it loosely. “I’m going to get a drink and tomorrow when I get back you’d all better be fucking sober and ready to play again. We are the Heathens, not fucking Mastodon. Tighten it up and get. It. Together.”

She left in a whirlwind of swirling lavender curls and a slammed door.


	8. Chapter 8

The stormy-eyed guitarist sat at a barstool, twisting the shot glass in her fingers between distressed texts to her boyfriend. Brian had, apparently, seen the blow up coming after she had mentioned her annoyance at the constant drug use of her bandmates. The key was moderation, her rockstar boyfriend texted, and they seemed to be missing that point.

Annoyed, she set her phone back down on the bar. Brian was telling her things she already knew, but she didn’t know what else she should expect from the guitarist. He was touring on the east coast - go figure as soon as the Heathens moved to LA, Avenged would be off to their home turf. Finn sighed, rubbing her temples as she asked for another drink.

“Want a double this time, little thing?” The bartender asked. It took everything in her power not to sneer at the man for calling her ‘little thing,’ but she smiled as sweetly as she could and nodded instead.

“Findlay? Findlay O’Shaughnessy, is that you?”

Finn shoved away from the bar as she turned in her stool, ready to lay into a perv or even pretend to be friendly with a fan - the things she did for fans, the vague introvert noted - and found herself face-to-face with her two favorite members of A Day To Remember, Neil Westfall and Kevin Skaff. Instead of shouting or pretending to be friendly, she threw her arms out to hug both of the familiar faces. Or, rather, their shoulders. She wasn’t drunk enough to be hugging faces.

The Heathens had gone out with ADTR on one of their very first tours, and the two guitarists had helped form her on-stage persona - which was to say, show her she needed no persona at all. The colorfully-tattooed men had taught her to be a little more virtuoso with her solos, and a little less nervous about her chops, and had sat with her when she got her lion tattoo. She and Neil had spent a little more time together in a short-lived tour romance that had formed the basis of her initial expectations of her relationship with Brian. Regardless, she was excited to see them out in LA.

“Man, what the fuck are you two doing here?”

“Could ask you the same question, Boston girl,” Tall and tattooed Neil took the seat to her right, and the shorter and slightly less-tattooed Kevin to her left. Her former lover took her right palm in his, turning it over to inspect her palm as Kevin ordered shots. “I was wondering if this was real - I keep catching a glimpse of it in pictures of you, but… damn, that’s ballsy, Finby.”

To her credit, she managed not to blush at the compliment, but his fingers still sent a little thrill up her palm the way they used to when their tryst had been forbidden, risque. She supposed, on some level it still was. To him, anyway.

“We’re recording in the Vault at Capital. Not sure how long this arrangement will last, my boys are off their rockers on the Cali lifestyle. We’ve gotta tighten it up.”

“I’d imagine that’s why you’re here, then, isn’t it?” Kevin asked as Neil let go of her hand with a slight squeeze. “You and Tor got into it?”

“Of course we did. You know us too well, Kev,” She laughed, offering him her palm at his insistence. “Gotta blow off some steam somehow.”

“Apparently you came to the right bar,” He traced a circle in her palm with a smile, poking the center with a calloused finger to close her fingers by force. “Come on, let's do this shot I got us,”

Finn reached for the shot he gestured to, wincing when she realized it came with an orange and cinnamon. Fuck, Kev would have ordered them tequila. She glanced over at Neil with pleading eyes, asking if there was a way she could get out of the trap. The gauged guitarist grinned impishly, and gave her a slow shake of his head. Nope.

“Great, thanks Kev. You know exactly what happens when I have tequila.”

“Yes I do,” He winked at Neil - apparently their tryst hadn't been as secret as she had once thought. “I hear Haner’s alright with it,”

“Jesus, I hate this town,” Finn toasted, knowing that she cited an ADTR song as she licked the cinnamon off the web between her thumb and forefinger, hoping the motion wasn’t too sexual before she threw back the tequila and chased it with the entire contents of the orange, ripping it right off the rind. “You boys are bad news. Why are you here?”

“Anonymous tip. Apparently there was supposed to be a surprise tonight but someone, who shall remain nameless, stormed out and ruined it.” I've had his hand on the back of her chair, leaning toward the smaller guitarist. He had always been a little more touchy-feely than Neil, who was a little more aloof. Very, very suddenly Finn realized she had a type.

Arrogant guitarists. It seemed they were in abundance everywhere she went.

“Sincerest apologies for ruining everything,” She joked, trying not to let her inward anger show. “Blame it on sexual frustration I guess,”

“Forward,”

“Always. You guys aren't just here to surprise me. Is there a show tonight?” Finn asked, licking the rest of the cinnamon off her hand. This time, she knew the motion was definitely sexual as she peered at Neil, locking eyes with the guitarist as she sucked the webbing of her thumb and forefinger gently to clean off the cinnamon residue.

“There is, at the Viper room on the Strip.” Kev spoke behind them as Neil raised a brow at her, asking if she was for sure with barely a look.

“The boys know, if they were planning to surprise me, right?” Finn asked absently, tucking her lavender locks behind her ear as she reached for her phone. Neil’s tattooed hand fell on hers, holding her fingers to the bar with a gentle squeeze. She stared up at the gauged guitarist, one eyebrow raised.

“We’re staying around the corner,” He murmured, his fingers squeezing hers around her phone gently. “It’s a quick walk,”

“How long do you have, Knees?” She murmured, moving her fingers to entwine in his.

“Ugh, gross. Get the fuck out of here, you two. Jesus.”

Finn called for her tab as Kevin continued to harp on them, paying for the round of shots as Neil stared at her with his piercingly green eyes.


	9. Chapter 9

Out on the street, Finn lit a cigarette and offered the tall man one just as he lit his own and offered her a light.

“You and Synyster Gates…” He let the sentence trail as she took an inopportune breath, letting the silence trail between them with the smoke.

“Oh, Bri and I have a thing. Seems to work.” She twined her arm around his, hooking elbows with the much taller guitarist.

“Which is? I don’t have to worry about him coming after me if I sleep with his girl?”

“I’m a woman, Neil, and no, you don’t. Depending on where she is, you might have to worry about him sleeping with yours though, if you have one,” She smiled innocently up at the tall guitarist as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her lips up into his. She surrendered under his touch - she had definitely forgotten how sweet his full lips were. Since Kiichi, she had figured out how to more effectively separate her feelings from a random man from her feelings for Brian, the want from the love. It had been so much easier before the black-haired guitarist came into the picture.

“Knees, come on honey, where’s that hotel?” The nickname slipped from her lips easily, reminding her of the year where the pair traveled together for the tour. The nostalgia was palpable as he massaged her shoulder with a calloused hand.

“We’re in front of it. Want to come up?” She searched for his lips with a lung full of smoke, her fingers scrabbling for the back of his neck to drag him down to her level as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her up to his. God, his lips were sweet.

“Fuck yes.”

Finn found herself pinned to the wall of the elevator, Neil's hands hungry on her waist. She had to push him to keep those calloused fingers on top of her clothes until they got to the hotel room. Then, all bets were off.

His fingers snaked under the edge of her tied-up tank top, relieving her of it quickly as she reached for the hem of his shirt. It wasn't as if she could pull it over his head, but the lavender-haired guitarist knew that a little guidance went a long way with men. Neil pulled it up with eager fingers, dropping the garment on the dresser next to them as they slammed into the wall. What was it with her and walls, she mused as he struggled with her bralette - looking for a clasp and finding none.

Gently, she guided his hands to her waist and up under the garment, like she was teaching him. One hand immediately sought the back of her lavender curls to hold her lips to his, the other under the waistband of her shorts, about to shuck them off.

“Do you have a condom?” Best to ask before they got too far, Finn mused as her fingers tugged at the button of his shorts.

“You don't need one,” He breathed into her cheek, his fingers searching under her loose shorts, touching the skin stretched over her hip bone. She had almost forgotten that he knew about the state of her uterus, but knew he wouldn’t fight her on the ask like others had.

“Part of my agreement,” She managed to pull his hand up, back to her less distracting waist.

“Shitty agreement,” Neil pulled his hands off her with a sigh, moving to his backpack where she knew he kept his condoms. He frisbeed a pair across the hotel room to her, and she caught one - the other fell by her feet. As she pocketed the first foil wrapper, Neil grabbed the other and yanked her loose shorts and underwear down around her ankles with one hand. He teased her foot out of the opening of her shorts and put it over his shoulder, his lips greedy at her clit.

Finn moaned, her head back against the hotel room wall. Fucking hell he was good. His lips sent fire running up her nerves, the hair raised along her skin. It wasn't long before she found her finish, putty in his hands.

Neil stood and slung the smaller guitarist onto the bed, his grin hungry as he unwrapped the condom. She reached to pull his shorts down, leaving him standing in all of his glory. Before he could slip the condom on, she took him in her mouth, watching his toes curl as she worked.

“Fuck, Finn, stop.” He pushed her head away slowly, reluctantly, as if he didn't really want her to stop but needed her to. She straightened, falling back on the bed underneath him as he crawled toward her lips. Her old lover stopped, hovering just above her with his lips at her cheek, poised to push into her.

“What?” Finn asked, turning her lips to his, her hands on his hips.

“Life,” He kissed her softly to punctuate his words. “Is fuckin funny.”

Neil sunk into her slowly, tantalizingly slowly, his lips moving to her throat as she let her head tip back onto the comforters with a moan. He wrapped his arm under her waist, holding her hips to his as he shifted inside her and began to find his rhythm. Her fingertips dug into his shoulders as he easily found the spot in the back of her, a place he was intimately familiar with. The tall guitarist pulled her face to his, stifling her moan with his lips.

“Slow down, boy, you're gonna -” Instead he sped up, grinning impishly with his elbow by her head, his other arm under her back.

“You always got so tight when you came,” He murmured into her ear, his lips brushing the tiny hairs and sending shivers down her spine. “Come on, Finby,”

That did it. She moaned his name as she came onto him, but his strokes were relentless as he groaned - apparently, he was right. She got tight when she came. The lavender-haired guitarist made a haphazard mental note to ask Haner if it was true as the gauged guitarist’s gaze returned from the ceiling.

His lips found her nipple as he deftly turned them over. The petite guitarist found herself riding him slowly with her fingertips braced on his chest as his hands explored her body, fingering new tattoos.

“Never thought I'd get to do this again,” He murmured, tracing down her sides with his fingertips. She had forgotten how talkative he could be - the complete opposite of Brian's desperate moans and passionate silence.

“Do what?”

“You,” He kissed her collarbone as she touched his cheek with her fingertips, letting her rhythm slow.

“Not such a bad agreement is it?” She asked, teasing him on the edge of letting him fall out of her.

“Happy to take advantage. You're something else,”

He pulled her hips down onto his with his tattooed hands, shifting deep inside her. His lips reached for hers as his calloused thumbs caressed the scars between her hips bones.


	10. Chapter 10

Her brain was still buzzing from the pleasure of his company as she leaned on an amp backstage, clutching a drink as ADTR worked on their soundcheck. She hopped up onto the amp and tucked her feet under her thighs, phone in hand as Brian texted her.

‘Who are you making out with?’ The black-haired guitarist knew how to make her giggle even from most of a continent away. She knew the statement wasn’t jealous, even if reports of her sneaking kisses from Neil were getting back to the guitarist all the way in New York. As if he wasn’t doing the same thing on his end.

‘Talent. Who have you got?’ She sent a selfie, sticking her tongue out to her lover, her drink held up by her face. ‘Surprise ADTR show. Missed these guys.’

‘They put on a hell of a show, send vids.’ He didn’t answer her question, so she figured the person wasn’t a done deal yet. She knew for a fact that he had been going after a woman on the tour with them for once - it seemed to be more of a challenge than her actually piquing his interest. Even though Finn had told him that Kiichi’s guitar tech probably wouldn't sleep with him on principle alone, he still tried.

“How does PDA factor into your agreement?” Neil asked, his hands on her shoulders. Findlay nearly jumped out of her skin at his touch - he was supposed to still be playing.

“It doesn’t. It’s whatever as long as there aren’t too many pictures.”

“Don’t want to talk about it?” The tall guitarist nuzzled his nose behind her ear, into her hair and against the soft skin between her ear and hairline. The only other man who did that to her was Brian, she mused with a chuckle as she laid her hand on the side of his head. “I’ll take what I can get.”

“Just as long as you -”

“Don’t get pissy? More like pleasantly surprised, Finby.” He planted a sweet kiss on that tender spot usually reserved for her partner, and pulled away grinning, strumming his guitar like he had never stopped as he retreated back onstage.

“Findlay!” That shout over the music onstage was so familiar… Findlay spun on her amp to find an irate-looking Toric, strolling with a glowering Max from the backstage door. “Do you know how hard we tried to make sure you didn’t find out about this fucking show?”

“Nope, not a clue,” She murmured, fiddling with a cigarette in her fingertips. While the motion was nervous, her stormy eyes were hard and defiant as they glared at her twin. “How hard, Toric? You didn’t want me to see the guys?”

“No, it was supposed to be a fucking surprise,” Toric went to cuff his twin in the ear, and she ducked under his blow, grabbing his palm in both of hers and twisting as she had in their youth. Despite his size, Findlay had always won any physical altercations between the twins - partially in spite of her size and partially because her brother could never actually hurt her.

His follow through ripped her off the amp, and she barely had time to catch herself on the toes of her boots, swinging one leg out to balance herself with every ounce of her yoga-toned physique.

“Fuck, Tor, sorry for ruining your fun,” She murmured as she regained her balance, his wrist held in both of her hands.

“Our surprise,” He gestured to Max, who shrugged. “We were gonna drag you out for the heartfelt reunion but you ran out. Did you…” Her twin held her up by the hands on his wrist, stretching her out to stare into her eyes, his stormy greys narrowed as he glared at her. After a moment, and a poignant glance at the telltale tiny bruises forming on her exposed hip bones, Toric shook her grasp free with feigned disgust.

“Did you…. Really Finn? You’re dragging poor Neil into this?”

“Poor Neil? Poor fucking Neil? God damn if you think I’ve managed to drag that man anywhere, dearest brother of mine!” At this point, the twin had realized that her brother could actually care less about who she slept with, but that he liked to get a rise out of her.

“Poor fucking me?” Lips pursed, Findlay glared up at her brother as a pair of tattooed hands squeezed her shoulders. Of course. While they certainly hadn’t been fighting for real - the soundcheck would have stopped a lot sooner, drowned out by the decibels of their anger - but their anger had attracted the attention of the goofy guitarist, who massaged Finn’s shoulder for just a second before he moved to hug the pair of newly-arrived Heathens that he knew, and introduce himself to the third.

“But seriously, Toric, I know you too well to not tell you to fuck off,” Neil finally concluded his niceties as his bandmates began to join them on the side of stage. He stripped off his guitar to pass to his tech, who skillfully pulled his mix from his ears with it before he set it down and turned to address Kevin’s guitar.

“Findlay? Toric? Max? Didn’t expect to see you guys here so soon,” Jeremy, the bearded singer, clapped the lavender-haired guitarist on the back, moving to hug through the band.

“Finn figured us out. Or she’s got a sixth sense for when you guys are in town,” Max grumbled, looking down at her like it was her fault they had tried to surprise her when it would have been better to just tell her the guys were in town. Neil settled his tattooed elbow on her head, leaning on the small woman heavily.

“Fucking hell, Neil, you’re heavy!”

“Have you guys had any dinner yet? I’m starved.” Jeremy asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow at Neil as he shifted his arm down to loop over Finn’s shoulders as the smaller guitarist complained about the weight on her head.

“Y’all need something quick, right?” Finn asked, tuning back into the conversation now that she was more comfortable. “There’s a taco place just down the street that’s… what would you Florida kids say? Dope AF?”

“Fuck you, Finn, that’s exactly what we’d say!” Kev called over his shoulder, interrupting the conversation he was having with ADTR’s guitar tech just to swear at her. It was truly an honor.


	11. Chapter 11

The Heathens and the five ADTR guys spilled out onto the sidewalk outside of the venue, following Toric as he lead them down the street toward dinner. The guys didn’t have very long to scarf before they had to be back at the venue to open the show, but as they settled into the booth, it was clear they intended to use the time wisely for catch-up.

“So what have you guys been up to?” Joshua, the blonde-haired bassist, asked. The duty to answer fell to Toric as Finn reached for chips and salsa from under Neil’s heavy arm. The guys were all doing a very good job of pretending not to notice the PDA - something the pair had avoided when seeing each other in the past. Apparently, they had all stopped giving a fuck in their old age, Finn mused.

“I mean, we’ve got an album almost ready to record, Finn and I are breaking down a couple more guitar parts,”

“Since when do you help her with guitars?” Kev asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously at her twin.

“Since he insisted on playing on this album,” Finn grumbled, leaning her head back onto Neil’s shoulder. “Oh, and we’re all singing now, and did I mention on the next album we’re changing our name to Mastodon?”

“This is why we found you in the bar, isn’t it?” The gauged guitarist asked, looking down at Finn with a raised eyebrow. Finn nodded awkwardly, her head still rested on his shoulder. “Wow, you guys are really changing it up,”

“It’s not as awful as Finn’s making it sound, really. She’s been such a drama queen about this,” Her twin kicked her under the table, but she managed to draw her knees up onto the booth at the last second to avoid his vicious maneuver. Shifting, she tucked her feet under her thighs to sit Indian-style, one knee in Neil’s lap.

“I’m resistant to change, y’all know this,” She mused, hands folded in her lap. “But we live here now, apparently. Whenever we get the album written we’re recording at the Vault, that’s neat,”

“And then we’ll tour again, finally!” Rhys was genuinely excited that he would get to finally go on tour with the band - his previous live experiences were limited to festivals they had played over the summer. The youngest member of the group had missed out on a lot, truly. “Are you guys kicking off or wrapping up?”

“Neither, actually.” The waitress arrived with a tray full of tacos as Jeremy spoke, absently passing plates to his bandmates. “We’re just playing a few shows, trying to gauge potential new material. Get to a few places we didn’t hit when we were on tour.”

“So we’re around for a couple days, here, then we’re leaving for Denver. Then Kansas City, Champaign, Richmond and home.” Neil provided, taking his arm back to focus on a plate of fish tacos. Finn dropped her napkin in her lap as she considered her carnitas, wondering where to begin.

“Denver? In November? That sounds rough, guys.” Max was already halfway through a steak taco. The man was a pig.

“I’m gonna fucking die,” Neil managed around a bite of his taco.

“I’m gonna go skiing and do snow sports, and it’s gonna be super awesome!” Kev pumped a fist in the air enthusiastically, eliciting groans from his band mates. Originally from Minnesota, he understood how to deal with snow and snow sports. “Nobody wants to do it with me, though. It’s sad.”

“Shred the gnar, bro,” Rhys’ sportsbro side was showing as he tucked into his plate, making the “surf’s up” gesture with his thumb and pinkie. Really, while the Heathens weren’t entirely inactive people - Finn was fond of yoga and bouldering, Toric still frequented batting cages and Max was an avid runner - Rhys was on a different level when it came to “extreme” sports, often surfing, snowboarding, and skateboarding. Basically anything involving the word “board.”

“What does that even mean?” The tall guitarist at her side asked, licking a finger.

“We don’t ask any more, it agitates the dreads,” Finn stage whispered, working on her second taco. Neil reached for her third, an eyebrow raised, and she nodded that he could take it - she was never going to eat it anyway.

“Oh, come on Knees, you’ve been here an hour and you’re already getting her spare tacos? Not fair!” Tor pointed with a pout, regarding his nearly-empty plate. “I’ve been eyeing that one,”

Neil shrugged at the curly-haired twin, cramming half of Finn’s abandoned taco in his mouth as he did so.

“So hot,” She murmured, rolling her eyes. “So if this isn’t a tour… what are your plans? Are you going back to the studio after Richmond?”

“I think we might take a bit of a breather,” Jeremy pushed his plate away, leaving half a taco which Toric pounced on. “Jesus, Tor, what if I wanted that?”

“Just hang out in Florida for a bit?”

“We’ve been on the road for so long it doesn’t sound like a bad thing right now, Finn,” Josh said, cracking his knuckles. “I’m sure that’ll last fifteen minutes in Ocala, but it is what it is.”

“I am not excited to go back to Ocala,” Neil commented dryly as they broke loose from the booth and back out into the bright LA sun.

Findlay positioned herself toward the front of the group to take a selfie with her boys and the ADTR boys, to try and post to Instagram.

“Do you want to come backstage with us, or are you gonna watch from the audience?” Neil asked, his tattooed arm looping around her narrow shoulders again. She looked up from her filters, chewing her lip as she considered.

“I usually like to watch backstage, but only if there’s beer.”

“There’s always beer.” She raised an eyebrow, trying to say that it was hit or miss with ADTR’s backstage. Because half of the members were straight edge, the guys didn’t drink on stage, and often didn’t have beers backstage until the guitarists went out to the bars later. “Ok, I get it. You’re right.”

She raised her phone for a Snapchat to send to Brian, the taller guitarist made a face and seemed amused as she added a filter - dark lipstick, eye makeup and facial piercings that didn't really change the smaller guitarist but made Neil look quite pretty.

“You're really sending that to Brian?” He asked, arm still comfortably over her shoulder. “I guess someday you'll have to explain this to me.”

“How about tomorrow over cold beers and maybe a new tattoo?” She asked brightly, staring up at his bright hazel eyes. He grinned impishly, his thumb running over the bare skin of her shoulder.

“You know the way to my heart, shorty. Only if we can get lunch together.”

“Breakfast?”

“Hm, forward. What if I'm too tired after earlier?”

“Oh, fuck you Knees. Too tired for me?” His eyes flashed hungrily, and he squeezed her shoulder as they stopped outside the backstage door. The smaller guitarist lit a cigarette as the rest of the guys filtered into the green room.

Finn pulled her phone out again, clicking on Brian's return snap to show Neil.

Her gorgeous lover had his hair sloppily hidden by a slouchy beanie - something she never let him wear when she was around - and by his eyes he was definitely drunk. He had his arm around a willowy-looking girl with trendy “opalescent” hair and big green eyes. And giant boobs, but Finn didn't want to judge her partner for his taste.

“Wow, she's fucking hot,” Neil commented, his lips suddenly by her cheek. “He's pulling that and you've got me for a weekend? This hardly seems fair,”

“Maybe he can introduce you. She's someone's tech apparently.”

“You both have a type don't you?”

“What do you mean?” Finn asked innocently, pressing her lips to Neil’s for a long minute, relishing in his taste. “He definitely doesn't have a thing for hot chick guitarists. And I don't like asshole guitarists. No types,”

The gauged guitarist nipped at her lower lip, his hands on her hips, fingertips dipping below the waistband of her shorts to brush across her scarred hip bones.

“Mmm baby. I'm glad you like asshole guitarists,” he murmured against her lips before he started to part them with his tongue, pushing her back against the alley wall. Finn moaned as he reached under her shorts with one hand to grab a handful of her ass, squeezing her body up to his. “Can I call you baby, does that violate the terms?”

“I'll allow it,” She murmured, flicking the butt of her cigarette away so she could sink both hands into his greyish locks. She guided his lips back to hers, smirking against them because he had to bend down so far to kiss her.

His hands under her thighs where abrupt, and he pulled her up to his chest effortlessly to press her against the wall of the alley as they kissed furiously, his touch igniting tiny fires of passion along her back where his calloused fingertips met skin.

“Knees, you gotta go play a show,”

“Fuck, don't I know it. Do I get you after?”

“Are you kidding? I'm stealing you for the weekend. You can see the guys again when you leave for Denver,” She had always enjoyed the big man and his downright goofy sense of humor. Floridians were a special group.

She kissed him again as he let her feet back to the ground, her tattooed fingers clasped behind his head.

“Come on, Knees. You gotta get inside. If we keep at this you're gonna get all riled up and I'll have to do something about it,”

“Oh, what's a few minutes in an alley compared to a lifetime of misdeeds?” He murmured with a grin as he took the lavender-haired guitarist under his arm.


	12. Chapter 12

Finn sat at the bar with her bandmates, sending the periodic Snapchat to her lover when the guys played something she particularly liked. She had been given strict orders to pay attention to the songs she didn't recognize, and to let the guys know what she thought after the show. Really, it had been tasked to the whole band but Kev and Neil would be waiting for her input most of all. It was a guitarist thing.

“I think Brian's sleeping with your mini-me this weekend,” Tor joked over Jeremy's howling, catching one of his return snaps with the opalescent-haired girl in the background. “Or maybe you're the mini-me?”

“Oh fuck you, Toric. Apparently she's Trivium’s guitar tech?”

“So she's banged ‘Kiichi’ too?” That joke got him a swift punch in the shoulder.

“I'm gonna figure out how to hook her up with Knees, actually. He deserves someone… not me. And she's a Florida girl,”

“I think he does just fine on his own, Finnby,” Tor murmured, rolling his eyes as he ordered another round for the group. “Are you guys… together for the weekend?”

“Yup. We've got a breakfast date tomorrow. And tattoos. Not sure where.”

“Go to that chick in Huntington Brian talks about,”

“Good call. I'll ask him about it.” Absently, she opened the text app to inquire before she looked up at her brother. “Tor? I know you think it's weird, but do you -”

“Finn, you're my sister. I don't give a fuck what you do in bed as long as it's not with a douche,” He didn't wait for her to finish her question. He didn't need to, really, with their twintuition being what it was.

The guys onstage announced a new song and Finn tuned in, making a note that she liked what Kev and Neil were doing with lead swapping. After a few bars, she realized her twin was still staring down at her with hard eyes, his face concerned.

“What?”

“You, kid, you. You’re a damn mess, woman.” Toric sighed, running his free hand through his curls, making them stand at attention. “Be careful with Neil. You could really hurt him.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Do you actually not understand, or do you not try to?” Her sandy-haired twin asked, shaking his head at her. “Serious question, Finn, really.”

“I don’t understand. Do you think he’s still… attached… to me?” Tor shot her a knowing look, his hand on her shoulder. “Fuck.”

“I guess there isn’t much you can do at this point, is there?” He mumbled, and they both turned to watch the rest of the set in near silence, engaging with their bandmates and nobody else.

Finally, the guys ended their set and sat at the edge of the stage, engaging their impromptu crowd with an impromptu meet and greet. She had to admire their tenacity, their dedication to their fans. As she watched them slowly move off stage - and back on, in some cases - Finn flipped her phone in her fingers as she watched Neil sign a fan’s t-shirt with a bright smile.

It was the first time she had ever doubted the agreement she and Brian kept - and possibly only because Neil was such a genuinely sweet person. Finally, she texted Brian.

‘Torn. Help?’ She knew he wouldn’t get the text until he was offstage - in the hours before a show, he tried to use his phone as little as possible, and would never, ever carry it on stage. He had absolutely murdered a few phones that way. She slipped her matte black phone into her back pocket and wandered up through the crowd to the secluded backstage door, miles behind her bandmates who had already left the bar.

‘u ok?’ Sometimes, the man made her laugh with how adorably old he was. He must have just caught her text in the green room during his pre-show rituals. ‘wats wrong?’

‘I’m fine, just… think I might be hurting someone.’

‘why?’

‘Something T said,’

‘u should do wats best 4 u. if u like it, doesn’t matter. he will grow.’ God, his texts were atrocious. Findlay leaned against the wall of the backstage hallway, away from the hustle and bustle of packing up and the guys running into one another. ‘love u, showtime.’

‘<3 you, babe.’ Findlay sighed as she pocketed her phone, leaning with her head back against the wall. When it came to their relationship, Brian was selfless and giving, but in their relationships with other people, he tended to be more than a little shortsighted and selfish. Though, as per their agreement, she really tried not to ask him for advice.

Toric was probably right. She couldn’t spend the weekend with Neil without hurting him. But then, Brian was right too. He would grow from the experience. How selfish did she want to be?


	13. Chapter 13

In the end, the answer was pretty fucking selfish.

Findlay lounged on Neil’s hotel bed in her underwear as she watched him pack, listening to him chatter about the mini-tour they were doing. She had never heard of anything like it, but it was an interesting way to test out new material.

“I wish I had known about this when Tor was bullying me into changing the Heathens,” She murmured, playing with the edge of the saran wrap that covered her newest tattoo. As she had promised, she had spent the night with Neil, gone out for breakfast the next morning and took him to Brian’s gal out in Huntington for a pair of tattoos - not matching, but significant because it was the second pair they had gotten together.

Really, really fucking selfish.

“It’s helpful. I’m not sure how to measure success, though. I guess the crowd here liked it?” He shoved the last t-shirt into his bag, and turned to consider the small guitarist for a moment before he launched himself across the room in a flying leap to land on the bed next to her.

Findlay shrieked and tried to roll out of the way, but found herself pinned under his burly shoulders as the man rained kisses on her shoulders, on her neck. She couldn’t help but giggle, even in light of what she knew she was about to have to say to him. The more time she had spent with the guitarist, the more she had noticed how different he was from the other guys she had slept with. Much more attached - almost like how she and Brian treated one another when they were together.

Fuck.

“Neil, when’s your flight?” She asked quietly, trying not to giggle under his touch. It was no way to start a serious conversation.

“Like, eight. We aren’t leaving for another couple of hours,” He murmured, his hands searching down her tattooed sides, stopping to trace the “For Those Who Have Heart” tattoo on her side. That was the first tattoo they had gotten together. He traced his fingers over the ink under her skin, planting kisses on her sternum before he ran his callouses down to the top of her boyshorts.

“Knees, stop,” She managed as he kissed the scars between her hips, his thumbs hooked under her underwear. Absently, she wondered if he knew one of those scars was the result of their last parting - and tried not to think of the fact that he’d probably have the privilege of a second.

“Neil,” Her voice took on a hard edge as he kept going, even though she didn’t want to lose the warmth of him draped across her abdomen. It was so familiar - and it was getting harder to separate the feelings she had once had for him from what they were up to currently. This was a situation where her brother had been right - if for the wrong reasons.

He sat up on the edge of the bed, looking down at the lavender-haired woman with concern on his face.

“Are you ok, Finn? What’s wrong?”

“Neil, I… I can’t do this.” She couldn’t make eye contact with the man, with those earnest bright green eyes. “Not with you,”

“What do you mean?” His concern melted into confusion as Finn stood, reaching for her shorts where they lay next to the bed. She didn’t answer as she assembled herself, pushing her phone into her pocket.

“Findlay?” Now it was his turn to be peeved, glaring from where he lay in a pair of banana print boxers.

“I’m sorry, Neil. This was a mistake. I can’t do this with you.” It wouldn’t be fair to say why, but the reason hung in the air between them. “It’s not fair to any of us.”

“Why isn’t it fair? You’ll do ‘this’ with anyone else, just not me?” He quoted with his fingers, but stood to search for his discarded pile of clothes. Finn backed away, pressing her back to the wall by the lightswitch, arms crossed.

“That’s not fair to say either.”

“No, Finn, how is it not fair to any of us? Who are we hurting? Do you think you leaving right now is for my benefit?” He held what remained of his shirt in his hands, letting it hang at his waist.

“It isn’t fair. Not to me, not to you, and certainly not to Brian.”

“Explain it.” He spat through the shirt as he yanked it down over his head, but his gaze was hard as he freed himself from the t-shirt.

Findlay didn’t answer, trying to look anywhere but in his eyes as the guitarist slowly crossed the room, putting a hand by her head to lean on as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his sharp gaze. The stormy-eyed guitarist blinked hard against the stinging of tears, but she realized as she stared at him that Neil was blinking just as hard, his eyes sad rather than sharp.

“Knees,” Her voice was barely a breath and she unfurled her arms to snake her fingers through his at her cheek, her tattooed palm against the ink that dotted the back of his hand.

“The way I feel about you, I can’t feel that way. I don’t want to. Brian is the best thing that has ever happened to me.” She closed her eyes against his palm, leaning her cheek into his hand. “And I’m the shittiest person in the world for dragging you around all weekend.”

“You’re pretty shitty,” Neil’s tone was serious but his eyes crinkled around the edges when she glanced up at him, betraying his smile. “I get it. Terms and conditions. Brian is a great guy. But this is making me feel like the selfish one.”

“I don’t want you to think that, Neil. I’m the selfish one. I think I knew exactly how I would feel, being here, now.” She let her eyes slip shut again as his lips fell against her forehead, and didn’t fight him as he pulled her into his arms.

“Don’t leave.” He murmured, holding her tightly to his chest as he bent to rest his chin on the top of her head. “Just stay. At least for another few hours, until I leave?”

She remained silent, her nose pressed into his chest, her hands clasped tightly against the small of his back. Finn wasn’t normally a cry-er for any reason, but she had to fight hard to bite back the sob that built in her chest. Brian. She would have to call him after this, too. Probably ruin his night with the cute tech.

“Findlay,”

In response, she reached her fingers up to the sides of his face and pulled it down for a long, slow kiss. For a moment, he went stiff as a board under her touch, but melted into her, pulling her up with an arm under the small of her back, the other buried in her long curls.

“You deserve better than me,” She managed finally, as they parted to gasp for air.

“But I want you,” He growled before he pressed his mouth to hers again. Finn pushed against his chest for a moment, considering pushing him away, before her fingers curled around the neck of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. The tall guitarist didn’t fight against her as she started to walk him toward the bed, their bodies pressed into a sinuous line. Their lips were hungry against one another’s as Finn pulled her shirt off and dropped it on the floor, letting the guitarist’s hands search up her sides.

“Make it count,” She murmured as he searched her body slowly, sitting up so he could nibble her collarbone and flip her over onto her back.

The guitarist seemed intent to take her advice and slowly pulled down her shorts, his hands searching her body slowly. He kissed as many parts of her as he could, interspersing the touch of his lips with the nibble of his teeth. It wasn't that she wasn't enjoying herself, but she was having a hard time surrendering to his touch.

Until he pulled down her underwear, leaving her bare underneath him. His jeans grated against her skin as he shifted to kiss her lips, his calloused fingers searching to opposite sides of her body. One hand pulled her arms above her head by her wrists, the other stretched to tease her clit gently, rubbing her with increasing intensity as she moaned against his lips. He shifted so he could run his hand over her bare sex, spreading her wetness around before he slipped a finger into her, rubbing her with his thumb. He was almost unbearably hard against her thigh, and Finn couldn't help but gasp his name as he slipped in a second digit, searching for her g spot with the pads of his fingers.

With a moan, Finn arched her back against him, straining her arms against his heavy hand. He pulled his lips away from hers, just long enough to let her moan one word.

“Please,”

Neil smirked down at her and pressed his mouth firmly to hers, parting her lips with his greedy tongue. It was a moment before he let go of her hands to reach for a condom on the bedside table - even in the depths of their passion, he still respected her agreement. He teased her instead with the head of his dick, spreading her wetness around before he pressed the head into her slowly, pulling it out before pushing himself back in again with his hand on her hip.

“Neil,” There was warning in her voice, she thought, somewhere under the passion. Had he put on the condom? She didn’t have time to worry about it much as he slowly slid inside of her, his thumb still rubbing her clit and his lips at her throat as he pushed into the hilt. Finn moaned his name, letting her eyes slip shut as he started to pump into her in long strokes, moving her up the bed easily with a hand on her ass.

The man still, somehow, knew every nook and cranny of her. Every place to kiss that made her sigh, every spot to nibble to make her squeal with pleasure. Under his touch, she quivered, her body acting of its own accord as he pushed into her. Her lips searched desperately for his.

There was something to be said for “goodbye” sex, wasn’t there?

“Fuck, Neil,” It wasn’t like her to fall to pieces at a man’s touch - a man that wasn’t Brian, anyway. His silence was abnormal, but she didn’t think about it. Instead, Finn let herself drift away, let herself enjoy this. The last time.

It had to be. She was already dangerously close to breaking her own terms and conditions.

Finn sunk her fingers into his loose, reddish hair, dragging his lips to hers for a long kiss before she bypassed them for his ear.

“I’m almost there, Knees,”

“Hm. Too bad.”

She was shocked when he pulled out of her abruptly, guiding her to the edge of the high bed. He flipped her so that she was on her hands and knees, the majority of her legs hanging over the edge of the hotel bed as he aligned himself with her. The guitarist wrapped his tattooed fingers in her hair and the other on her hip before he pulled her back onto him abruptly, eliciting a gasp from the petite woman as he pulled her neck toward his lips by her hair.

“Neil!” Usually, Finn tried to be mindful of the neighbors, but as he pulled her head over his shoulder by the hair and nipped at the intersection of her neck and shoulder she let herself moan loudly. Decency was a distraction from the feeling of his hand holding her hips to his roughly, his fingers leaving little bruises among the scars as he grunted with exertion.

Once again, she was nearly overcome before he pulled out of her again, spinning her roughly in his arms to push her back against the wall of the room. Her head collided cruelly with the wall, but she didn’t gasp in pain - only in shock as he pushed back inside her, riding her roughly. He didn’t seem to notice or care. Finn’s fingers scrabbled at his back, searching for purchase desperately, leaving furrows in his skin as she swore.

They breathed desperately through their noses, their lips smashed together, teeth scraping as he parted her lips with his tongue. He grunted against her as their bodies collided with each of thrusts, his lips muffling her cries of passion.

Quietly, she breathed his name again as she chewed on the cartilage of his ear, and she found herself empty once more. He dumped her back on the bed, crawling up between her legs as she pulled herself to lay her head on the pillows.

His tongue flicked between her legs, giving her momentary relief from his girth as he sucked on her clit with greedy lips. After a moment, he kissed his way back up to her mouth, pushing back inside of her with a hand braced on either side of her head as he slowly thrust into her. He kissed her cheek, his eyes closed as he thrust evenly, trying to bring them both to their finish.

“Do you want it?” He asked as he moved slowly inside her, stroking her sides gently with his calloused fingertips.

“Please, Neil, I need you,”

“Say it again,” His voice was unusually harsh, and she was taken aback, but she rested her lips against his cheek, near to his ear. She moaned softly.

“I need you, Knees. Come for me.”

He had certainly not put on the condom, she realized abruptly, but the overwhelming sensation of him quivering between her thighs pushed the thought out of her mind and she kissed him thoroughly. His body was heavy on hers, his skin warm against hers. Fuck, he was good. If life had been different if he had said the right things on that tour… If Brian didn't exist.

Findlay shivered under his light touch as he drew his hand up her side, kissing under her jaw before he gazed into her storm dark eyes with his bright greens. They were silent for a few moments, gazing at each other, before he pressed his lips against hers, her cheek, her neck.

“This is cliche. But. I wrote Forgive and Forget about you,” He murmured against her sweaty skin, shifting inside her. It was as if he was admitting something he had wanted to tell her for a while, he sounded exhausted. That might have been because they were both spent. It might have been because of the exertion of the end of something… something what? She couldn't - wouldn't - say what they had been. The lavender-haired guitarist couldn't admit to herself that she had loved him. Once.

There was no way he could ask for another round. She still shuddered reflexively against the pulse of him deep inside of her. Finn tried to recall the lyrics of the song he cited, but couldn't. That album hadn’t been out when they were last touring with one another. She hadn't listened to it a million times every night, hadn't helped him practice the chords when he was feeling nervous before a show.

“Listen to it. Later.” He pushed himself up off the bed with his long, tattooed arms, leaving her suddenly empty. It took her breath away, and took the memories suddenly with her beath. She propped herself up on her elbows, gazing at him, drinking him in one last time.

“I need a shower,” He said flatly, looking as if he was also trying to memorize every detail of her body. “Want to join before we go?”

In ten minutes they were standing together in the elevator awkwardly, staring at one another in silence. In the lobby, the guys were bustling around, excited to head to the airport and Denver, but Neil and Findlay were subdued, distracted. He took her fingers in his and gave them a squeeze, looking into her eyes with his bright greens. Was that a hint of a tear?

“Bye, Finby.”


	14. Chapter 14

“Tor’s dropping me at Matt and Val’s now, actually. What're you guys up to?”

“Got our soundcheck in a few. I'm watching Mike not let me string my own guitars right now,” Brian sounded more amused than upset - like he ever strung his own guitars on tour. She had once jokingly asked him if he even knew how any more, which had not gotten the reaction she wanted or anticipated.

“Rough life,” Finn joked, looking over at her brother who seemed on edge. He was constantly on edge with the LA traffic, really. At least northern drivers would actually go, these people seemed content in stop-and-go parking lots.

“Alright, well, I love you, Tor’s getting frustrated with me,”

“Alright babe, I love you, be nice to Val,” She heard someone shouting in the background and Haner laughed. “Matt says give her a kiss for him.”

“Sorry Matthew, not my bag. I'll send your love though. Bye!”

Finn didn’t recognize the pair of cars in the driveway, but she chalked that up to the fact that she knew none of the guy’s cars anyway. She was there to grab the key to Brian’s house, have a cup of coffee, and Val would bring her over to Brian’s down the road. At least, that was what Val had asked when the lithe guitarist had asked to come pick up Brian’s key from her.

“Thanks Toric, I’ll catch you later.”

“You coming home after this?”

“Maybe, I’ll keep you updated. I thought I’d hit a strip club, maybe grab a hooker or two. Or, you know, go shopping.”

Her brother stuck his tongue out at her as he backed out of the driveway, leaving her standing there waving like an idiot. After a second, she stared up at Matt and Valary’s house, as if sizing up an opponent, and made her way to the front door. Even after the bonfire at Brian’s she still wasn’t sure that Valary really even liked her, given she was dating her sister’s ex-husband. Steeling her nerves, she knocked on the door.

Immediately, there was screaming, and a pounding of feet as if down a staircase. Because the door had a large glass pane, Finn got to watch as one of Matt’s sons - the elder, she imagined - crash down the stairs neck-and-neck with a large black lab mix. He missed the last step and tumbled onto the carpet of the entryway - the dog slid to a stop, licking the kid before it came to the door, wagging most of its body along with its tail. Finn grinned at the creature as the kid got to his feet to answer the door.

“Hi there, I’m Findlay. I’m here to see V… your mom.”

“MA! Fin-Lee is here to see you!”

“Bring her back, Cash,” Ah, parenthood sounded so blissful. At least eighteen years of endlessly shouting back and forth at one another. Finn chuckled as she followed the sandy-haired youth into the house, petting the dog’s head absently as he sniffed her leg.

“Hey Finn! This is my sister Michelle,” Ah, fuck, really? Finn tried to keep the sentiment off her face as she smiled at the twins, offering a hand to the less blonde of the two.

“Nice to meet you,”

“Ah, so you’re the girl who’s fucking my husband,” Blinking, Finn raised an eyebrow, eyes wide at the admonition.

“Oh, flip off Misha, and watch your language! He’s not your husband any more.” The lithe guitarist took a step back from the less blonde twin, running into the child, who she saved from falling with one lightning fast hand much to her own shock much less that of the twins. Meanwhile, Val stared daggers at her sister as she filled a coffee pot with water at the sink. “Cash? Can you take Finn out to Uncie Bri’s spot? Then you can get your stuff, munchkin.”

With a happy chirp, the kid took Finn’s hand and led her outside. There was a table set up with an ashtray - good to know that Val didn't condemn smoking just because she had kids.

“This is where Uncie Bri sits,” He pointed at a specific chair, and yanked her hand until she circled the table with him to plop in the correct seat.

“Thanks, Cash,” The kid seemed satisfied at the order of the situation and patted her hand.

As the child shut the sliding glass door, Finn took a deep breath of the cigarette she had just lit and set her phone to playing a playlist to drown out the shouting that was happening between the sisters inside. She knew she would have appreciated the gesture if it had been her and her twin fighting inside the house.

River came to the door with a pair of mugs, and just as Finn stood to let him out, his little brother came to the rescue. Finn felt bad about the lit cigarette as she took the pair of mugs from the older Sanders kid with her thanks, until a shout drew them jogging into the house.

“Can I steal one of those off you?” Val asked, pointing at the pack of Camel Crushes on the glass table.

“Oh, of course,” Findlay offered her lighter to the blonde woman so she could light her borrowed cigarette.

“I figured you like black coffee. The only way Brian will take it.”

“Unless it’s got Bailey’s in it,” The purple-haired guitarist quipped, taking the lighter back from the singer’s wife. “But yes, thank you, Val.”

They sat in silence for a few moments, taking a few deep breaths of their cigarettes as a light rain settled onto the Huntington Beach hillside, spraying Finn occasionally from “Uncie Bri’s” spot on the patio.

“Are you going to stay at his place while he’s gone?” Val asked finally, through a mouthful of smoke.

“Can’t imagine being there without him at this point. I can hardly accept his loaner truck, but he’s so fucking persistent,”

“The man loves you, Finn.” The blonde sighed, leaning her head back. “Don’t take advantage of that.” she sounded like her husband.

“Why would I? I already think he’s stupid for wanting me in the first place,” Findlay took a deep breath of her cigarette as she thought through her statement. Valary waited for her to continue patiently. “That sounded callous. But honestly, I constantly wonder why me, of all the damn women in the world.”

“I mean, he is, apparently, one of the sexiest men in guitar. And seeing as you’re one of the only women,” The pair laughed as Finn reached for her coffee, testing the heat with a finger before she took a gulp. “Nah, Findlay, he’s really besotted with you. I just wish… I guess I wish stuff had ended better with Misha,”

“I mean, I don’t have any business with that. It’s not my place to comment.”

“She’s his ex…”

“Yeah, and he could remember tomorrow why he married her, leave me, and I would have nothing to say. It’s the agreement, Val.”

“Man, you freaking hate commitment, don’t you?” Val’s green eyes were hard on the stormy-eyed guitarist, who covered her feelings with a deep draught of the lukewarm mug of coffee.

“I’m not used to it.”

“If Brian proposed to you tomorrow, what would you say?”

“Why?”

“Why would he propose? Because he loves -”

“No, why me?” Finn asked, leaning back in her chair with a hand over her eyes, exhaling a lungful of smoke. “Damn, this is the kind of discussion I like to have a guitar in my hands and weed in my lungs.”

She heard the chair Val was sitting in scooch out, and the sliding door open. Intrigued, Finn sat up, waiting for the blonde woman to return. Return she did, with a little pipe, a small baggie and an acoustic in her hands.

“Excuse me if I don’t indulge you, I don’t get to very often,” The singer’s wife offered her the guitar, her fingers on the body. “I don’t think it’s in tune, but I’ll pack the bowl if you want to tune it.”

“Where can I find a piece of paper and a pen?” Finn asked, setting the guitar in her seat as she stood. “It doesn’t take that long to tune. Been at it a while,”

“God, you and Brian. Peas in a pod. On the kitchen island, flip over my kitchen list and use the next paper.”

Finn wandered into the beautiful kitchen, and drew staff lines on the next page of Val’s notepad quickly before she returned to the patio with it and the pencil. As she settled into the chair with the guitar to tune, Val spoke.

“You know, I don’t have that many girlfriends. Job hazard. But I feel like if Misha could get over herself, you guys could get along.”

“I mean, Bri loved her enough to marry her. That means enough to me.” The stormy-eyed guitarist murmured as she tuned the guitar, strumming it and adjusting the pegs once before she started to play Daylight Dies by Killswitch Engage, with was delightful on an acoustic.

“That was quick,”

“What, the tuning? I have perfect pitch,” Finn looked up, humming as the blonde rested her perfect lips on the end of the pearlescent bowl. “Oh, you mean with Michelle. I don’t know, Val, what do I have to hold against her? I’m sure she’s lovely.”

“You’re a fudging saint. Take this. Let me remember how to swear for a minute.” The grey-haired guitarist’s fingers brushed the blonde housewife’s with a grin as she took the bowl from her. Finn exhaled all the smoke and air from her lungs to take a deep hit from the piece, cashing it before she tapped it out, holding the smoke inside her as she tipped out the ash, mindful of the screen.

“You got another load there?” She asked, passing the blonde the beautiful piece across the table. Val held up the bag, which was full of veiny weed.

“You bet your ass I do. Play me something pretty... That I haven’t heard before, babe.” Finn had started to play Exist from the boy’s most recent album, and switched to a more melodic track from CKY, which was always fun to try and recreate on an acoustic.

“So you say you don’t have many girlfriends, why is that?”

“I think you’d understand the life we lead. Even if you live it from one of their perspectives.” Val took a deep hit from the piece and moved to the chair next to the lavender-haired guitarist, passing her the bowl. “Never around that many women, to be honest.”

“I mean, from a different perspective, yes.” Findlay agreed and took a deep breath of the weed, letting it go to her head. “I was just on my boys for smoking too much,” She noted, passing the bowl into Val’s well-manicured hand.

“Fuck ‘em,” The blonde took a deep breath. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

After another breath, Finn was playing the newest Foo Fighters song on her borrowed guitar, strumming gently as she hummed. To her shock, Val harmonized quite well.

“Don’t look at me like that, I’ve been drafted into their songs before,” The blonde woman sighed. “I don't know how you put up with any of them - Brian in particular.”

“What do you mean?” Was she referring to the collective they - Avenged and the Heathens? Just Avenged? Findlay frowned as she thought of another song to play, settling on an Alice In Chains classic.

“The drinking, the more-than-occasional drug use, the cheating,” Finn raised both eyebrows at Val's admonition - did she mean to say Matt cheated? She had never seen evidence of it in the singer. “Not mine. Maybe once or twice before we got married but I fly out and back enough to keep him satisfied. But the others... And then there's you and Brian, happy as clams to sleep with other people and come back to one another. That's what I don't get.”

Findlay sighed, still strumming the slower song. There it was. The perpetual elephant in the room whenever someone talked about her and Brian. How so many people knew about the elephant she'd never know - Val had to have learned from Matt, but so often even people who had no business in it, like a reporter, asked.

“Fuck, do I hate trying to explain this one,” She murmured, still strumming because she'd be damned if she didn't finish the song in her altered state. “Of all the women he could end up with, in the one he says ‘I love you’ to. The one he keeps coming back to. Fuck, I'm the one that gets to sleep over - we don't let people stay the night in our beds if we can help it.”

Val look at Finn pensively, as if considering her statement as she ran her hand through her rooty blonde hair.

“I guess if it’s what works for you two, if it’s what keeps you stable, who am I to judge? Fuck, it’s not like any of us really ended up with the white picket fences.” She gestured behind herself to her beautiful house that her husband wouldn’t be in for another month.

“Being in a relationship with any musician is hard. Try two?”

“You’re right, Finn. I get it… I mean, I don’t get it, but I won’t pry. He’s happier than I’ve seen him.” There was an unspoken “ever” that hung in the air between them, but Finn didn’t push.

The pair sat in silence for a while as Findlay picked at the guitar, playing around with notes she didn’t bother to write down. Her thoughts were too disjointed to put anything original together, and she resorted to playing some covers.

Soon, they were chatting again as the Sanders Family Dog - Mr. Bagels - leapt into the pool, causing an uproar from the two women.

When Val dropped her off at Brian’s house for his truck, Finn still wasn’t one hundred percent sure they were friends - she honestly didn’t know much about female friendship - but she did think they were much closer than they had been.


	15. Chapter 15

“Do you want me to come get you guys? We can carpool,”

Finn considered the text from Val thoughtfully, checking the time. The guys were slated to land in two hours, which meant Matt's wife had just enough time to wrangle their boys and come to Finn's to get her.

“You bringing Riv and Cash?”

“Think so.”

“It’s ok then, I'll meet you guys there. Know what gate? Bri = no info.”

“US Air I think. I'll check & get back.”

Finn pocketed her phone, glancing at her brother. The pair sat in the living room with a guitar each and a single piece of sheet music in front of them. They had taken to focusing on one piece at a time, hammering it out and refining before giving it to Max and Rhys for the “lower-end treatment.” Her boys had such stellar sense of humor.

“What?”

“How long do you think you'll be gone? Think we can finish this before you leave?”

“I hope so…”

She put her pencil between her lips, considering the coda they were writing. It was melodic and slightly tense, which was affecting Tor’s mood. It was also on the cusp of being too difficult for him to play on stage, even when he wasn't singing.

“It's gonna be ok, Tor. You're just gonna have to practice your tits off,” The lavender-haired guitarist said with a sigh, pushing away from the table after nearly an hour of quibbling with her twin. “I've gotta go.”

Ignoring his arguments that they weren't done yet - and they certainly fucking were, or the song risked being overworked - and set to throwing together an overnight bag. She still hadn't gotten used to the warmth of LA winter, generally in October she would be transitioning to a much thicker wardrobe. Here she was wearing shorts and wondering if a playboy bunny costume would be too much for Halloween.

“I think I'm just going for the weekend, Toric. I still have a fucking job to do don't I? Don't get pissy with me! For normal people this is after hours!”

“Barely - it's hardly even three.”

“Yeah well, traffic. Tor, I know you're worried about this. We've got a lot to prove. But we're not gonna do that if we both burn out!” She held her arms open for her twin, pausing for one stubborn moment as he glared at her levelly. Finally, with a sigh, he crossed their living room.

“You're right. As usual.”

“Yeah well. Go out this weekend. Get laid, you need to.”

“Yeah yeah. Go be with your boyfriend.”

Finn slung her duffel into the passenger’s seat of Brian’s black truck and hopped up after it, leveraging herself like a swimmer coming out of the water. LAX was a half hour away without traffic, which was going to start to pick up soon. As she slid onto the highway, she wondered if Brian would have eaten already, but soon she was distracted by the road.

As she pulled up to short term parking in arrivals, her phone began to ring. She answered as she hopped out of the truck, taking nothing but the keys in her haste. LAX was a big fucking airport.

“Yeah Val?”

“They landed, we’re waiting at US Airways. Hurry up!”

“Bri’s calling me now. I'll see you in a sec!”

As she hustled across the parking lot, she redialed the guitarist.

“Sup babe?”

“Hey, we landed a little early I think.” The guys always flew private for their cross-country jaunts - their group had grown to exceed where struggling to get seats together on regular airlines made sense, and they had the money for it. The little airplanes were always early.

“Oh, that's today?” Finn wasn't sure if he'd pick up on her sarcasm over the phone, so she added, “I'm jogging across the parking lot now, don't run out too quick or you'll miss me.”

“Worried about wasting the trip?”

“Duh. Not really interested in seeing your ugly mug.” She dodged a lady with a stroller on her way to the moving sidewalk. “Let me focus. I'll see you in a minute.”

Finn slipped her phone in her pocket, walking as fast as she could without actually jogging. The guitarist had learned over the years small tattooed girl running across an airport was certainly considered some sort of security hazard. Bright hair streaming behind her, she outpaced the walkers on the moving sidewalk and bounded up the escalator stairs two at a time. The lavender-haired guitarist paused to read the sign that pointed toward U.S. Airways, and took off toward the terminal briskly, her eyes on the exit from the gates. She could just barely see Matt’s hat and sunglasses over the tall humans around her - at least, she figured it had to be Matt. Then she spotted Val, straight ahead of her, releasing her two boys to run to their father as if they were hounds after a raccoon.

The lithe guitarist didn’t have time to laugh at her own little joke as she spotted Brian. He dodged Matt, who had crouched with his arms open to be tackled by his kids, looking around the terminal. Supposedly for her.

Finn’s little stride sped up, and at the last minute, Brian saw her and dropped his bags in time to swipe the woman into his arms as she threw hers around his neck.

“Hey, sweet,” The black-haired guitarist closed his arms around her shoulders, pulling her tightly into his chest. “I missed you,”

“Been a weird couple-a months,” She murmured, tilting her chin up so he could kiss her gently. Around the pair, the airport bustled with reunions, but Finn barely noticed any of it as he buried a hand in her purple curls, his other hand on the small of her back. She felt her toes touch the floor as Brian bore down on her, until something slammed into their legs at thigh height.

“Uncie Bri!” Eyebrows raised, Finn took a step back from Brian as he bent to scoop up the younger Sanders child.

“Sup, bro? Did you miss me?” Smiling wryly, Brian hugged the kid to his chest, holding him high with an arm under his jeans. Really, Valary’s children were more stylish than Finn could ever hope to be, se mused as the tattooed guitarist greeted the child. Brian’s hands were occupied with River, so Finn picked up his backpack and the handle of his rollerboard as the bouffant-haired man chatted with the kid, walking along side him to the rest of the group as they proceeded to the baggage claim. As they came to a stop, Brian slipped his free arm over her shoulder, letting his hand dangle over her chest. Unconsciously, Finn found her fingers tangled in his.

“Alright, a-holes.” Matt began, gaining a glare from his wife, who regarded him with a raised eyebrow, looking pointedly at her son. “Does anyone need a ride home? No? Right, see you fu - farmers sometime next week.”

“Not a minute sooner, I’m sick of your faces.” Johnny quipped, his toddler on his shoulders.

“I’m not sick of your faces, I missed you all,” Valary piped, holding her husband’s hand.

After one last “end of tour” selfie, which Finn found later included her and Haner grinning at the toddler the guitarist held between them, the group proceeded to the exit and scattered to their cars. Finn had ended up parking close to where Valary had, so the sextet walked together. The lithe guitarist relieved her partner of his toddler-shaped burden, holding him so the guitarist could take his backpack and the pair of rollerboards from her.

“Geeze, Finn, it looks like his feet are about to drag on the ground,” Brian quipped, ruffling River’s faux hawk as the elder Sanders curled up on his rollerboad so ‘Uncie Bri’ could ‘scoot him around.’

“They can walk, little suckers.” Val shook her finger at both of the kids as they walked, but secretly looked thankful that she wasn’t the one carrying both of them.

“Can’t,” River murmured, his little head resting on the top of Finn’s as they wound through cars. She had to repress a pang of sadness as they walked with the kids, especially when Brian smiled down at River in her arms.

“Man, I miss being a kid,” Brian lamented with a sigh, hiking up his backpack as Finn paused so Valary could take a picture of her and the nearly-sleeping River. The blonde reached to reclaim her child as they reached the Sanders family SUV.

Finn fought back a quip about not missing her childhood at all, not wanting to sound bitter as she and Haner walked hand-in-hand toward his truck. They didn’t need to talk about what they had been up to as they had been texting each other almost constantly, but it was nice to have him by her side again.


	16. Chapter 16

The lithe guitarist hopped into the driver’s seat as Brian deposited his bags in the bed of the truck, and was about to start the vehicle when the driver’s door opened and a pair of hands spun her in her seat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Those tawny eyes bored into hers as that shit eating grin spread across his face. Finn reached down and took his cheeks in her palms, pulling him to stand straight as she kissed him.

“Taking you home,” She murmured, breathless. He tried to pull her out of the seat with a hand on either side of her hips, but she dug her feet in, nipping at his lips. “Get in the passenger’s seat, Brian,”

With a sigh and another stolen kiss, he walked to the other side of the truck, climbing in with a huff. Finn cranked the music and reversed smoothly out of the spot, ready to take on LA traffic at rush hour.

“Y’all couldn’t have picked a worse time to land,” She muttered, finding traffic almost immediately. “Can’t those fancy-schmancy private jets leave almost whenever you want?”

“Kind of? I don’t think we considered traffic on this side. The guys are just always excited to get back here as soon as possible.”

“Any you aren’t?”

“I’m always excited to see you,” He murmured, his long, tattooed fingers reaching to find hers. “I love you, Finn.”

“Love you too, Brian. Fuck!” She laid on the horn while someone shifted into her lane, flipping the bird as she tried to calm her galloping heart. Brian’s fingers wrapped tightly in hers, a look of horror on his face - which made sense when she realized she was steering with her knee in heavy traffic as she had extended her middle finger to the other driver.

“Uh, sorry. Boston.”

“I’m too old for this,” He murmured, leaning his head back against the seat. He still clutched her fingers tightly, his other hand wrapped firmly around the seatbelt across his chest. She couldn’t figure out how either would help his current situation, but sighed and slowed down slightly to make him feel better. “I don't usually let other folks drive me around.”

“You've never had a problem with taxis,”

“I do, always have to sit up front. I don't like it.”

“Well if I had known you were so skittish, snowflake, I would have let you drive instead.” Finn sighed, squeezing his fingers gently in hers. How had she not known he wasn’t a fan of being driven around? “I'm halfway decent and haven't killed anyone yet. This is even better than my car - high vis, automatic truck. Couldn't be easier.”

They drove in silence for a moment - Finn even moved into the slow lane to appease the man, until they were passed by a car full of waving Sanders.

“Oh, hell no.” Brian groaned loudly as she slid into their lane, tailing the Cayenne driven by the scruffy-faced singer.

“I mean I wouldn't let him win either, Finby, but Jesus you're going ninety,”

“He’s going faster - with his kids in the car!”

“Because you're pushing him!”

“Oh stop it Bri, why are you so touchy?”

“Haven't had a cigarette in seven hours,” He murmured, leaning his head back against the seat rest with his eyes closed. “Not much to eat. Have you eaten? Can we grab dinner?”

“I mean, sure. Where do we want to go? What're you feeling?” She completely ignored Brian's discomfort as she zipped past the Sanders car, where Matt pointed and laughed as Brian turned his miserable face to the window, hands pressed against it as if he wanted to escape.

Finn drove with her knees as she pulled her hair into a hasty ponytail to keep out of her face. The black-haired guitarist hissed at her, reaching for the wheel.

“I never knew you were such a control freak, babe,” Finn murmured, both hands safely back on the wheel. He declined to answer as she slowed, coming up on a large patch of traffic.

“So where do you want to go?” She asked as they inched along, waiting for traffic to clear.

“Well,” The black-haired guitarist seemed to be taking the reprieve of slow-moving traffic to dig in his backpack for his cigarettes. It hadn't seemed like he usually smoked in his truck, so she didn't follow in his footsteps as he lit one, rolling down the window a crack. “Vietnamese or tacos. You east coast assholes don't do those right.”

“Do we want to stay in LA for that? We're running out of city,”

They made their way to one of Brian's favorite spots in Huntington, and Finn sat opposite the guitarist with one of her favorites - lemongrass Bun Ga. Brian had opted for Pho, which hadn't lasted long.

“Fuck, Bri, hungry much? Where did it go?” Expertly, she caught his chopsticks in hers as he tried to make a grab for a piece of her chicken, fending him off from attacking her food.

“I told you, I haven't eaten since, like, ten.”

She stuck her tongue out at him as he managed to snag a piece of chicken and noodles.

“Fine, be that way. I'm almost done anyway.”

He held out a hand to the lithe guitarist, and she placed her tattooed palm in his, always appreciating the moments when they pressed their matching palms together. After another bite of her noodles, she realized he was still gazing at her, a half-smile playing at his lips.

“What?” She felt awkward asking as she slurped half a noodle like some kind of barbarian, shielding the lower half of her face with her wrist. “Is there something on my face?”

“Nah. Just happy to be home.” The lithe guitarist raised an eyebrow at the older man, trying to say she hadn't even gotten him home yet without having to talk through a mouth full of spicy Vietnamese food. He squeezed her hand and finally let go so she could attack her face with a napkin.

“You're sap is showing, Haner,” Finn teased finally, after chasing her last mouthful with a cup of water. “You wanna get out of here?”


	17. Chapter 17

One stop at the Trader Joe’s - for food and liquor - and Brian pulled smoothly into his driveway.

“You still have my key from Matt's?”

“Gave it back to Val. I didn't want to be hanging around your house without you,”

Brian didn't answer as he hefted his bags out of the bed of the truck - just tossed her his keys. She was lucky to catch them one-handed, the other hand laden with groceries. They hadn't gotten too much, just enough to see them through the weekend so Haner could do his “bachelor shopping” Monday when Finn went back to work.

She held the door open for the bouffant-haired man, letting him slip past her to the bedroom to deposit his bags as she split for the kitchen to sort the groceries. Once upon a time, the pair might have dropped everything in the door just to get their hands on one another, she mused as she tucked frozen pizzas and salad kits (?!) away.

“Hey sweet? I got you something,” She closed the refrigerator door and padded softly to the bedroom. It hadn't taken the lithe woman long to eschew her typical Docs for flip flops, which left her barefoot a lot of the time.

“You shouldn't have,” She murmured, pushing aside the box in his hand so she could wrap her arms around his chest, her cheek to the bare space of his v-neck. “Since when do you get me presents,”

“I've never seen anything I thought you’d like,” He shrugged, stroking her hair back over her shoulder so he could tilt her chin up. “You gonna open it?”

Finn snuck a sweet kiss before she snagged the box and danced away, grinning at the guitarist as she plopped on the edge of his bed. She was about to flip the box over and give it a shake when Brian's hand stopped her.

“Just open it,” He said with a smirk, as if he knew exactly what she was about to do.

She eased the top off the slim, oblong box and folded back the tissue. In the past, she had openly questioned Brian's taste in jewelry - the man wore a fucking bullet bracelet, for fuck’s sake - but he probably felt vindicated as she gasped in awe at the pieces in the box. It was a trio of necklaces: the longest was a downward arrow-shaped gray stone with flecks of blood red flaws on a silver chain, the second was shorter with an oblong, hexagonal stone in a deep red that matched the flaws in the first stone, and the third seemed to be a black leather choker fashioned of two cords - one thicker and one thin, with a tiny silver symbol of the goddess hanging from it. Finn felt her smile widen as she lifted the necklaces out of the box, holding all three chains where they intersected to lift to her chest.

“This is more like three gifts, Bri,” She said as she bounded off the bed to look at the trio against her neck in the mirror. His fingers fell to the clasps, easily securing the three strands as she inspected, bending to kiss her cheek.

“I'm glad you like them, I guess?”

“I love them, thank you babe,” With one last gaze at her new jewelry in the mirror, she turned to throw her arms around her partner’s neck, nuzzling into the space between his collarbone and neck. One of his calloused hands traveled down her back to squeeze a handful of her ass, the other rubbed her shoulders.

She tucked her fingers under the edge of his shirt, lifting it over his head as far as she could manage so he could take the rest, pulling it up and over his shoulders to toss on the floor behind him. Findlay found herself being similarly relieved, as he pulled her shirt and bralette over her curls, his lips hungry at the soft skin between her ear and her hairline.

“Fuck, Brian, Come here,” She dropped her pants over her flip flops, kicking both off as he pulled her to his waist by her ass. He pushed her back against the pristine white walls of his bedroom, holding her bare chest against his tightly.

“God damn, every time I miss you babe.” His murmur was hot against her lips, his shorts hard against her bare lower half. Fuck, he was so good. She adored his skin against hers, her lips on the intersection of his neck and shoulder. Her moan was gentle against his hair, reveling in the skin-to-skin contact as he shed his shorts, pushing against her bare skin.

“I love you, Bri,” She let her whisper trail down his neck with a set of lingering kisses, tucking her face into the crook of his neck as he thrust into her.


	18. Chapter 18

She realized someone was staring at her. Though she knew it was Brian, that secret place at the back of every woman's mind that is unfairly conditioned to irrationally fear serial killers sneaking into their beds at night flipped on and she started awake, almost bashing into her partner's head as she sat up.

“Fucking hell, Brian,” With a glare at the slightly shocked guitarist, who rested on his side with his head on his hand, she laid on her back, staring at the whitewashed boards of the ceiling. “Do you know how weird it is to wake up to someone staring at you?”

“I hope I’m not just ‘someone...’” He sounded slightly hurt by her statement, but the smile that played at the corners of his lips and the mischievous twinkle of his eyes said otherwise.

“Still stands, especially with the rockstar eyes,” She reached out to prod the circles under his eyes with a calloused finger. “Just boring right into my soul,”

He caught her fingertips and kissed them, that shit-eating grin spreading across his face. He was certainly up to no good, Finn knew. And it couldn't have anything to do with the fact that she wasn't lying naked but for the necklaces he had given her, that lust had certainly already been played out.

“Ok, now you're looking at me like you're going to use me for a solo. What gives?”

“Just thinking,”

“Danger, Will Robinson.”

“You're definitely not old enough to get that reference,”

“Neither are you. Unless that's what you're about to tell me. You look great for a Sexagenarian,”

“I'll sexa you… fuck. I thought I had that.” Findlay giggled as he rolled over on top of her, burying his face between her head and shoulder into her long lavender hair. She groaned as his weight settled onto her body, faking that she was being smothered. Brian asked something incomprehensible into her soft skin, and she had to ask him to repeat himself. It took him a long moment to disentangle himself from her hair, looking down at her as she brushed long strands from his second-day stubble.

“Move in with me,”

“Am I still asleep? I could have sworn you just asked me to move in with you,”

“Move in with me, Finn.”

“It has to be a dream, now you're repeating it.” Finn sighed, staring up at the ceiling rather than at his searching tawny eyes. “I'll have to think about it, Brian.”

“Guess I didn't think there was much to consider.” The guitarist pressed his head back down into her shoulder, wrapping his arms more securely around her waist.

“Plenty. Like, I don't want to just be your tenant, you can't be able to throw me out on a whim. And then there's our agreement and I can't imagine bringing someone home here when you're on tour.” She stroked his shaggy head gently, but her mind was distant. “There's just a lot, Brian. There's a line.”

“I get it. I didn't think of all that.” He breathed quietly, moving one hand to rest against her cheek as he straightened out of her shoulder to gaze down at her. “Do you want to make a pros and cons list?” He asked with a chuckle, grinning as she pulled his lips to hers with a hand on either side of his face.

“Where did this come from?” Finn asked, letting her hands wander down his chest to trace his Forever tattoo.

“Just thinking how much I enjoy waking up with you here. The only other time we get to do that is when we're touring together,”

“And how often does that happen?” Finn finished for him, toying with the hollow of his collarbone as he smiled. “You know if we do this, you're getting all of me. I'm not moving in half assed.”

“I didn't expect you to.” He kissed her cheek softly, breathing in like he was trying to absorb her. “Is that a yes?”

“It's still a maybe. You've been home less than twenty-four hours, let's revisit this in another twenty-four.”

“Why do you always have to be so logical?” He teased, but relented. She knew that the guitarist would probably ask again in as close to twenty-four hours as he could manage, she needed to get her shit together and talk to her twin.


	19. Chapter 19

Her demands had been simple - the refusal to be treated like a tenant, a new bookshelf for her many books (mainly, music scores and theory materials), dedicated closet space and the ability to bring men home guilt free while he wasn't around. The last one had gotten a raised eyebrow, but a nod and an agreement to do the same, as long as it wasn't in “their” bed.

“Big step you're taking, baby sister,” Tor mused for the hundredth time as he helped her carry boxes down to Brian's truck. Between the two bands and a couple of friends (and the promise of pizza and beer when they finished) moving was quick and almost painless.

“Aren't you excited? You get your own space, sans sister. For once.”

“I’m going to enjoy it for a week, then I'll be begging to move into Haner’s guest room.”

“Ugh, don't say it like that. You make me feel like I'm just going to be living in his house.”

“Well, you are,” She glared at her brother as she set her box down on the tailgate of the truck and hopped up to push the pair further into the bed as her twin stalked off.

“Everything going alright there, Finn?” Rhys asked, bringing her another set of boxes in his meaty biceps. Finn sighed, pausing to pull her hair back up into a loose bun on top of her head.

“Just sibling shit. We've never lived apart before.”

“Well, he won't be alone,” The drummer helped her off the bed of the truck, slinging an arm around her shoulders as all the guys were apt to do.

“I worry about the three of you together. No good can come of it,” She laughed and slipped back into the house through the door he held open for her.

“No good can come of what?” Zacky asked, moving past Rhys with a stack of boxes in his arms. Finn held the door open for him.

“These three, alone in the world without my guidance. Maybe I should tell Brian I can’t actually move after all,”

“Too late for that, babe, I already bought you bookshelves.” Brian buzzed by to toss an ambitious armload of book-filled boxes on the tailgate of Matt’s truck.

“Yeah, why do you have so many fucking books?” Finn had seemingly gotten herself trapped in the perfect storm - holding the door open as Matt walked out behind Brian. They had all spaced themselves perfectly as if to prevent her from actually doing anything. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you read,”

“Y’all don’t be slacking on the arm workouts now, I’m going to need your help in two weeks when Brian realizes I’m an absolute terror to live with,” Finn laughed as the guitarist caught her lips with his, pushing by to get another set of boxes.

Finally, Finn was able to follow the guys in to carry her own shit, but found all the stuff that the guys weren’t carrying had already been loaded onto the pair of trucks in the driveway. Many hands made for light work, she guessed.

The eight of them - Johnny had fatherly duties - piled into the trucks and headed toward Huntington Beach to unload. Finn found herself directing rather than actually carrying, watching as a bevy of mostly shirtless, tattooed rockstars unpacked the trucks into Haner’s house. At least she had been allowed to order the pizza without help, she mused as she bore the boxes back to the deck where the guys lounged, a case of beer on the table between them all.

“Chow time, boys.”

“So how does it feel, Finn?” Zacky asked, reaching for a plate. The unmarried men dove in for food like barbarians, Findlay noted as she plopped down in one of the chairs, reaching for a plate herself.

“How does what feel?”

“Out of all of the fish in the sea, you’ve made your claim on that one,”

“The old fish,” Matt added.

“With the weird-looking face,” Brooks poked at Brian’s elbow as the man in question tried to hork down a slice of pizza like he was avoiding their taunting.

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Finn began, finally getting her own slice.

“Is it really fair to say either of them are tied down?” The purple-haired guitarist turned to look at her brother in shock, mouth agape. The arrangement with Brian wasn’t something anyone in their inner circle usually addressed - Toric was bold, but also a little insensitive in that regard. Finn guessed he was just bitter about having to leave his last girlfriend behind in Boston, but that didn’t justify lashing out at his twin and her lover in front of their friends.

“Low blow, Toric,” Brian breathed, setting his slice down on a napkin. Any other time, Finn would have rolled her eyes at the man for not using a plate, but she was busy staring down her brother.

“I’d say it’s fair,” While she and Matt had always been at odds, Finn had to admire his willingness to go to bat for his long time friend. “It’s not fair for you to go after something that’s obviously working for them.”

The rest of the table was silent as the singers glared at one another, tattooed arms crossed almost identically over their chests.

“Boys, boys. Everyone out of my bedroom,” She tried to break the tension with a quip, cracking the top of a beer to break the stony silence.

“Where did you order the za, Finn?” Zacky was helpful, the rest of the crew filling in conversation around the silent singers.


	20. Chapter 20

Later that evening, Findlay began to unpack her clothes in the bedroom, filling her own dedicated dresser that Brian had gotten for her. The man had been very mindful of the fact that he had a ton of clothes - and for no reason, he had mused - and made sure she had enough room for hers. She didn’t need quite as much space as he was willing to give her.

“So Toric today, huh?” The black-haired guitarist asked, perched on the edge of the dresser she was working on filling. Intermittently, she would hand him something that needed to be hung and he would slip it onto a hanger for her. She was beginning to notice just how much color her closet lacked as they went through her clothes.

“He’s just stressed. Moving here was a big change, now I’m moving out? And I think playing and singing is turning out to be more difficult than he expected,”

“I love how you never throw him under the bus, even when all of those things were his idea.”

“Blood is thicker than water, I guess. But it’s definitely annoying.” Findlay sighed, holding up a shirt in front of her, debating weather to hang or fold it. “I don’t want to say he’s jealous, I just think he doesn’t get it.”

“What’s not to get?”

“A lot, apparently.” She tossed the shirt in the drawer with a sigh, crossing the distance between the pair so she could press her face against his chest, her hands on his knees. “I can say with confidence that it’s not a normal arrangement.”

His fingers tipped her chin up so he could lock eyes with the lithe guitarist, his thumb on her cheek.

“Your crazy is my crazy,” He murmured, and kissed the tip of her nose. “Gotta say, though, it’s not something I’ve consistently been taking advantage of,”

“Oh really?”

“Subbing out just makes me want you more,” Finn let her smile spread against his, still gripping his knees firmly. “Though, it’s interesting to hear tales of your… conquests.”

“My conquests, huh?” She asked, eyebrows raised. She didn’t realize people liked to talk about her sex life so much.

“Yep. It’s fun hearing about which of my friends you’ve boned,”

“Sounding a little bitter there, Brian,” The lavender-haired woman murmured, biting her lip as the alarm bells started to go off in her head. The ending of the agreement had been the death knell for any relationship she had been in - the few that had lasted more than a month. She had never been able to commit to exclusivity, and she certainly didn’t like being treated like a man’s property, like she belonged to him.

“Not bitter. Genuinely amused.” He kissed her cheek, his lips trailing to her ear. “Turns me on, actually.”

“Does it?” She asked as he nibbled her ear, toying with her cartilage piercing with his tongue. She knew the feeling, but wanted to hear him say it as his hands teased up her sides, holding her to him by the ribs. She was braless in one of his tank tops, wearing boyshort underwear and not much else. He was barechested in a pair of swim trunks - the pair were already enjoying an existence sans-clothing in the house together.

“I can’t really say why,” He pulled her body to his more tightly, his fingers teasing the edge of her underwear. “And every now and then, I get this look,”

“What look?”

“Like from, say, Kiichi.” Finn froze, looking up at the man with wide eyes. “Oh, babe, you don’t have to tell me who you sleep with. I usually already know.”

“How? Who?”

“Depends who you’re playing with.” The black-haired guitarist nuzzled under her chin to kiss the hollow of her throat, sending a tiny thrill down her spine with a graze of his stubble. “And you seriously have a thing for good guitarists, sweet. So It’s usually not hard to figure out.”

Stubbornly, Findlay refused to answer, still leaning on his knees for support.

“But seriously, Finn, Brent? He’s got a face tattoo,” Brian joked against the underside of her chin, trying to lighten the mood by citing her tryst with the Mastodon guitarist.

“And was a sweet and considerate lover, 9 out of ten, would bang again,” She murmured quietly, wincing as her hips hit the dresser between his legs. “Gentle there, big boy,”

“And Kiichi?”

“Absolute monster. Went back for seconds.”

“Oh did you?” His lips were getting hungrier against her throat, his hands hard on the small of her back to pull her closer. “Who else?”

“I’m not supposed to talk to you about it, you said so…”

“Might have changed my mind.” Under his hands her shirt came off, falling to the floor.

“Maybe I don’t want to blow the whole wad at once,” She murmured in her most sultry whisper, which set him laughing so hard he had to lean back against the wall of the closet, clutching his sides.

“Woman, you drive me nuts,” Finn kissed his shoulder lightly and returned to folding her shirts.

“Isn’t that the point?” She asked absently, pulling another pile of clothes out of her suitcase and set to sorting them, grinning wickedly at the tattooed guitarist for a moment before she returned to her task. “Let’s see. You want a few more? I caught Ahren when he was in town recently, he’s awfully sweet. I ended up taking Johnny up on his offer from years ago - I actually regret that, it wasn’t great. Slept with a fan I met at the bar, I think he was more excited that I followed him on instagram.”

Finn passed the guitarist a shirt to hang, but his hand wasn’t there to receive the item. She glanced at her partner to find him with his head leaned back against the wall of the closet, eyes shut with his tattooed hand stroking his dick. The stormy-eyed woman chuckled - she had never caught him jerking off, and it was a sight to behold.

“Mm, don’t stop there Finby, I was just getting to the good part,” Brian cracked open an eye to look at her lustily, biting his lip in the way that drove her crazy. Finn set down her shirt and stepped between his legs, kneeling to relieve him of his duty.

She stroked him firmly, staring up at the tattooed guitarist as she licked the head of his dick before she took him into her mouth. His hands fell to her shoulder, grasping it as she sucked, groaning with the effort of not grabbing her head and forcing it down. Findlay pushed back past her gag reflex, taking as much of him as she could as she picked up the pace. His toes curled where they dangled next to her torso, and his fingers gripped her shoulders hard as he moaned her name.

“Finn, I’m almost there,” She kept going, ignoring a crick in her neck and an ache in her lips as she pushed him to his finish, taking him as far as she could past her gag reflex to avoid the bitter taste of him. An only marginally healthy diet wasn't very conducive to enjoyable ejaculate.

Brian gasped as he came into the back of her throat, his feet flexed. She closed her eyes as he finished and let him pull himself out of her mouth slowly.

“Fuck, Finn, I love you,” He murmured, drawing her to her feet with a pair of fingers under her chin. She rested her hands on his knees, leaning to kiss him.

The petite guitarist was shocked when his hands pulled her roughly to his lips, his tongue parting them to tangle with hers. His greedy hands relieved her of her shirt again so he could paw at her chest, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She let him guide her onto his lap, straddling him on top of her dresser as he teased her for a moment, rubbing her wetness around before he pushed into her.

“Mm, babe,” She settled in his lap, taking all of him as she kissed his soft lips. “Fuck me like you’re jealous,”

Brian didn’t reply, but picked her up to bear her to the bed - their bed, she remembered with a start. His kisses grew desperate, rough, their teeth scraped together as he sought the back of her mouth with his tongue. She moaned as his thrusts quickened, his fingers bruising her hips where they held her hard against the soft bed. Finn reached for his chin, holding their lips together as he thrust, hard and fast.

She could do nothing but pant as his free hand made its way up her side to caress her cheek. As she moaned desperately under his touch, his hand grew hard at her throat.

For a moment, all she could feel was the ecstasy of him inside of her.

Then her eyes popped open. And all she could see was her recurring nightmare - Jay, the hand on her throat choking her to the point of bruising. The thrusts were rough enough to edge on painful.

Findlay flailed wildly, pushing Brian away from her lips and out from inside her with a strangled gasp. She registered his look of hurt before she fell into a small ball, her hands on either side of her head as she tried not to cry. It was Brian, not Jay. It was her lover, not her rapist. She had asked for it rough. She had enjoyed it. It had been her choice.

As she reasoned with herself she was hardly aware of Brian’s gentle touch on her leg, how he called her name with concern.

“Finby,” He had certainly put together the pieces as to why she had withdrawn so quickly, and his hand rested on her calf. “Can I hold you?”

She couldn’t help herself, and started to cry as she nodded. The guitarist wrapped his arms around her, drawing her much smaller frame to his chest gently. As he stroked his hair, he whispered sweet nothings into her ear.

“I’m so sorry sweet, I didn’t think. I know better and I didn’t think,” He held her tightly to his chest, rocking back and forth. “I’m so sorry, Finby,”

“I love you,” She managed, scrubbing at her tears with her palms, trying to will herself to buck up and stop crying. He brushed her hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear as he bent to kiss her temple, her cheek, the tears under her eyes.

“I never want you to think I’d hurt you, Finby,” As he pressed his nose into her temple, she realized her forehead was damp. Was he… crying? Her hard ass guitarist partner, holding her to his chest as she cried, was wiping his tears on her forehead.

“Brian,” The lavender-haired woman managed, looking up at him, trying to straighten in his arms. “It’s ok. I’m ok.”

“Baby, you’re not ok. Please, Finn, talk to me.” She stared into his chocolate brown eyes, her head on his shoulder in silence, waiting. “I’m not ok, Finby. Do it for me.”

“I… I freaked out. I’m sorry.” His frown deepened past sadness to a brief moment of anger.

“Sweet. Do not apologize to me. I know why you want to, but please. Don’t.” He stroked her cheek, pressing his lips against her forehead. “Beautiful woman, talk to me.”

“God I love you, Brian. Do you know that?” She asked, her fingers shaking as she reached to touch his cheek through their tangle of naked limbs. After a moment, she let her fingers drop into the cove created by their chests, staring at them in the tattooed darkness.

“I… you put your fingers around my throat. And I saw him. You… you were fucking me hard, and… I saw him, I remembered Jay.” Drawing in a shaky breath, Finn stared past his head, afraid that if she closed her eyes she would see Jay again, holding her down on the bed. Raping her.

“Finby,” He pulled her hard into his chest, his fingers hard against her sides, his legs even pulling her closer, tighter to his skin. “I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry.”


	21. Chapter 21

It was days before Brian would touch her again. She couldn’t fault him, not after what they had been through - what she had put him through. Three days after the moving day incident, she had jumped him and forced him onto his back in bed. It had been immensely satisfying, if gentle and slow.

Later that day, the lavender-haired guitarist paced out on the back patio, staring out over the ocean as Heather, The Heathen’s current agent filled her in on a few press opportunities as the newest album went into production. The freedom from the studio was quickly turning into the seventh circle of hell that was interviewing.

She crushed out her cigarette into the ashtray as she pocketed her phone, feeling bewildered as she slid open the glass door to walk back into the AC.

“What’s up, sweet?” Brian was working on sorting out their DVD collection, organizing them into alphabetical order by genre onto a bookcase by the television.

“I… Just got offered to do a spread in Maxim,” She murmured, leaning against the closed door.

“Wait, what? Like, one of those skimpy lingerie spreads?”

“Cover.”

Brian raised an eyebrow as he unfolded, getting to his feet to move to stand in front of her, a hand braced on either side of her head against the glass. He leaned his head down next to hers, his lips at her cheek.

“Damn, so the rest of the world has realized how great you look naked,” He nipped at her earlobe, following his bite with a soft kiss. “You gonna do it?”

“I’m not sure. Depends how you feel. How my brother feels. What my bandmates think,” She breathed against his stubbly cheek, her fingertips brushing under the low sides of his tank top. She wore an Avenged shirt with the sleeves cut off - an irony he had noted when they met in the kitchen for coffee that morning - so he had put on an old Heathens shirt she had squirreled away and rediscovered during the move. It was something she would swim in, but fit him quite well.

“Well, give Tor a ring,” He nuzzled his face farther into her hair, with a kiss on the space between her ear and her hairline before he pulled away to return to his task.

“I texted him. I think he’s with that new piece he’s got.”

“Maria.”

“Come again?”

“Her name is Maria, Finn. I think this is why women don’t like you,” He sighed, touching his lips to hers softly before he returned to his alphabetizing.

“I don’t remember anyone’s name the first time, why does that make women hate me?” She asked, staring at the ceiling.

“You don’t know much about the fairer sex, do you sweet?” He said absently, considering an array of titles before him. He seemed to be in the L’s. “If you do it, can I go with you?”

“To my skimpy photo shoot?”

“I’d like to be there,”

“You can’t jerk off on set,” She grinned impishly at the man, shooting off a text to her brother in reply to his question of ‘what’s up?’ Her phone started to ring with her brother’s call, and the twin ducked out onto the patio again.

Tor seemed equally disgusted and in awe, trying to negotiate hanging at the set with her for the shoot - citing the potential presence of other semi-naked women - but not actually wanting to be there for her pictures. It was an interesting scenario for the twins, she mused with a grin.

Fifteen minutes worth of negotiation later, Finn was back on the phone with her agent to confirm, and found herself with a set date.

“Brian?” She called into the house, looking for the guitarist in the sprawling abode. “Sweet?”

“On the phone, Finn,” The lithe guitarist sighed and pulled a chair into the kitchen so she could retrieve the grapefruit vodka from the high shelf Brian kept it on. She gathered the ingredients to mix herself a drink as she waited for the guitarist to return from the guest room where he was on the phone, but thought better of it considering the date she had just confirmed for the shoot and put the vodka away.

The lavender-haired guitarist sat on the counter with a glass of water in hand, kicking her legs as she went through her instagram, searching to see what kind of compromising pictures of she and her partner were splayed across the internet that day. She didn’t use her instagram often, but when she did, the main function was looking up pictures of the pair.

“What’s up, babe?”

Brian walked back into the room - sauntered, more like it.

“Not much, just bragging about how my woman was invited to be in Maxim,”

“Oh yeah? To whom?” She asked, letting her bare feet kick back and forth on the kitchen island.

“Matthew. It wasn't the purpose of the call but it was nice to say I couldn't confirm studio time because I needed to know when your shoot was.”

“Next Thursday.”

“Well that's fucking quick.” It was - nine days, to be exact. He crossed the room to sink his Boro emblazoned fingers into her hair, holding her lips to his for a long moment.

“You're telling me. No booze, salads, and intense workouts start now.” Finn grumbled as they parted, leaning her head on his chest. “And I have to do my hair. And my nails. And get a wax.”

“I didn't realize it would be so… labor intensive?” The guitarist searched for the word as he held the lavender-haired woman, stroking her long locks. “If you can't drink, do you want to come smoke with me?”


	22. Chapter 22

Thankfully, the shoot was to be held on a closed set, with minimal crew, but that didn’t make Findlay any less nervous as she and Brian drove to the location for the shoot - backstage at the Whisky in LA. She had been asked to come with damp hair and with one of her guitars and Brian carried her favorite hollow-bodied ESP for her as they walked into the spacious bar.

“Is there any chance I could get a drink while we do this?” Finn asked as she was led to where the makeup artists and hair stylists had set up in the corner of the bar, away from where the stage was being set up for a shoot. And potentially a show later.

“Of course!” The man who seemed to be in charge of the shindig - Daniel - pointed at an assistant who asked what she would like. Brian ordered one as well - he had been sober in solidarity with the smaller guitarist, and obviously had been hankering.

Over the last week and a half Finn had put her body through the ringer, and it showed in her abs and sinewy arms. She and Brian had gotten into at least three arguments about the “eating-disorder-esque” territory she had edged into as she worked out hours at a time and drank most of her meals in smoothie form, but she had managed to convince him it would all be over after the shoot. It honestly wasn't fun, in all reality.

After quick introductions with the hair and makeup team, Findlay stripped and changed into a plush white robe before she was sat in a chair to let the teams do their work. A stylist perched against the vanity just off to the side of her makeup artists, chatting about the look they we're going for. Brian - who had pulled out her guitar and was playing it slightly out of tune just to annoy her - sat in a chair nearby.

“Findlay? I'm Sean, I'm the interviewer.” Ah, right. They would be doing a fair amount of multi-tasking for this interview before they continued it the next day. “Just a few off the record questions for you before I start observing or whatever.”

“Nice to meet you Sean. This is Brian,” Findlay pointed over to the tattooed guitarist, knowing she was stating the obvious. “And I haven't decided if he's here on the record or off yet.”

Brian stuck his tongue out at her but continued strumming a soft, flamenco-inspired tune as she spoke to the interviewer.

“What do you think, Bri?” She asked, glancing at her partner before her make up artist asked her to keep looking straight ahead.

“On the record. But this is all you, Finnby. I'm not here to answer questions, Sean.” As usual, his answer was fair and polite. He had a way of dealing with the press he had developed over almost two decades in the business that Finn hoped she would catch on to one day.

“Cool, I'll make a note of that.” Sean smiled at the pair before he directed his full attention back to Finn. “Is there anything you don't want me to ask about?”

“Uh…” Finn paused, considering. “Not sure. I'll let you know if I'm uncomfortable with any questions. Kosher?”

“Sick.” He folded open his notebook, looking at the pair. “I'm gonna go into observer mode though, let you get settled. Thanks, Finn!”

As he retreated, Finn’s make up artists finished her face and let her hair stylists start to curl her long, freshly-dyed locks. She had gone for an ombré look for the interview, with grey-ish roots, light lavender intensifying to dark purple ends. The cameraman snapped a few candid shots as the team worked on Finn, with Brian in the background still strumming an improvised tune.

Finally, Findlay was ready to get into what she was referring to as her “little getups” for the shoot. It was mildly embarrassing.

“Should we cover these up?” Her makeup artist was staring at the scars on her abdomen, asking her colleague rather than the guitarist in question.

“Absolutely not.” The hard edge to her voice surprised the small guitarist, and the guitar playing stopped abruptly as her partner looked up at her. “Sorry, but I don't want them covered.”

The makeup artists exchanged a look - as if to say it was her loss - but walked away chatting quietly about the state of her skin. It would be another fight not to have them edited out in post, but though she didn't often wear things that revealed the scars, she was used to the “please no photoshop” fight. Early in her career her features had been altered into oblivion once or twice - once so egregiously she didn't even look like her brother, who was standing next to her in the picture.

The guitarist glanced at her partner, who only watched as she draped her robe over her nearly-naked form, his expression unreadable.

“What's up, Bri?” She asked, brushing her fingers over his shoulders as she walked past.

“Just looking,”

“Think I should cover them up?”

“Did I say that?” She paused, looking over her shoulder at him. He didn't wink, there was no mischief in his voice. For once, her ultra famous lover was entirely neutral. Findlay quirked an eyebrow at him before she turned back to the stage, shaking her head.

The photographer went over the shots he was looking for and Finn got to posing, pretending she wasn't uncomfortable being as (almost) naked as she was in front of so many people. Brian kept his lewd comments to a minimum, but she could practically feel his eyes stripping her naked as he hopped on stage to hand her the ESP he had been playing.

“It's a little outta tune,” He admitted with a grin, their fingers connecting as he passed off the guitar.

“No shit, ass. Get off my stage,” She slapped his ass as he hopped away, grinning. As she posed with the guitar, she recognized the pensive look on her photographer’s face. “What’s up, Nate?”

“I kind of have an idea, if you two are up for it.” Finn paused, leaning on the stock of her guitar rather than posing as she waited for the photographer to elaborate. “Have you ever seen the Rolling Stone cover Janet Jackson did?”

Finn looked at Nate flatly - of course she had seen that cover - the infamous “hand bra” to begin all hand bras. She knew what he was getting at, of course, she wasn’t stupid, and glanced over at her partner, who shrugged.

“Your call. It’d be hot,” He mused over his sunglasses, leaning against the stage so he could look up at the lithe guitarist. Finn considered for a moment, her eyes flicking between the guitar god and the rest of the skeleton crew before she finally settled on Nate with a sigh.

“Fine. Which underwear goes best with Marlboro tattoos?”


	23. Chapter 23

Two hours later, Finn changed back into her street clothes as she listened to Sean’s various interview questions.

“Politically? Wow, that’s not a question I get asked much. Really, I try not to discuss politics - I have a lot of friends with a lot of different views, and I’m just not qualified to comment or try to change anyone’s mind. Personally, I don’t vote based on party lines, I tend to take a look at what the person’s beliefs are and what they’re preaching. I don’t vote for people I don’t trust.”

“That’s, like, all politicians in a nutshell,” Sean mused with a laugh as the trio - Brian with Finn’s cased guitar - headed out to the truck. Findlay let Brian drive as she climbed into the passenger’s seat, ready to answer more of Sean’s questions. The interviewer set his recording device on the center console and strapped himself into the middle seat as Brian pulled out of the parking lot. She had done a few interviews like this one - which were more the interviewer observing her and having a conversation rather than straight asking questions. It was a refreshing change.

“I guess you’re right. But I guess that’s my barometer. The most trustworthy, in my opinion. But like I said, it’s not something that comes up super often for me. I guess sometimes, we’ll turn on the television and Brian and I will have a what the fuck moment - or seven, depending on the day - but that’s about it. Tor will sometimes get a little politically charged lyrically, and it’s definitely difficult not to these days, but we try to veil it or walk it back. That’s not what The Heathens are about.” Finn paused, watching the road as her lover navigated the traffic. “Bri, where are you taking us?”

“Lunch, right? Aren’t you starved? I figured we’d grab za at that place you like.”

“Oh, fuck yes. The man gets me.” She reached for his hand to squeeze. “Doing shoots like this is rough, there’s a lot of working out and a lot of salads - two things I’m not super into. Oh, wait, are you cool with pizza, Sean? You’re not, like, gluten free or vegan or anything?”

“I’m not, big fan of pizza actually. So you had to work pretty hard to slim down for this shoot?”

“I mean, it sounds bad to say I had to work hard. I just had a really small turnaround for this one - it was like ten days from when my agent called me to now.” She fidgeted with Brian’s tattooed fingers in hers, rubbing her fingers against his. “It can be such a bore, though. I couldn’t go out with everyone because I didn’t want to be tempted with bad food and alcohol. My life was studio, home, studio, home. Every day the same for ten days. I think I drove everyone I did see batty.”

Brian pulled into the parking spot just fast enough to make the lavender-haired woman grab at her seatbelt with a muffled shriek, glaring at him as he grinned impishly.

“You drive me up a wall. Anyway, yeah, being hungry, working out, getting claws put on my fingers because god forbid I have gnarly guitarist hands… That’s what photoshoots are like. Can I have a cigarette, babe?”

Her tattooed partner handed her one from the pack, lighting it for her as the trio leaned against the truck to suck down smokes before heading inside. Sean didn’t smoke, but also put away his recording device for the time being, watching the pair as Brian patiently waited for Finn to finish her cigarette and quit fantasizing about the pizza she was going to have.

“Like, the prosciutto and fig? Ooo or that smoky chipotle one that you get, I’m stealing a slice,”

“Who says I’m going to get that one? I might branch out,” The guitarist reached to thread his fingers through hers, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. He knew the reason she was so chatty was because she was nervous about continuing the interview - having to do the interview in the first place - and her post-photoshoot jitters. She pulled an exaggerated pout as she snubbed out her cigarette, and the trio walked across the parking lot.

“What if I get the one with the black olives?” Brian continued to taunt, holding the door open for the interviewer and interviewee.

“Don’t be cruel, Bri… I’m getting a beer.” Finn sat across from Sean in the booth they were shown to, opening the menu. “Oh, fuck, and mozzarella sticks,”

“Ok, I fucking promise she’s not usually this big of a mess. I think the semi-starvation has gone to her head,” The guitarist provided for Sean, shrugging.

“Duly noted,” The recording device was back, as the lavender-haired woman ordered a bevy of appetizers, a round of water, and a beer.

“This is my favorite pizza place. I think between Bri and Tor, I come here at least once a week. So ten days off was really rough.”

“I’m excited to try some of their food,” The men with her had followed her lead and ordered a beer each. “So, I know that in the metal community, bands who tour together tend to get very close, and Avenged aside, I wanted to ask your thoughts on camaraderie between bands.”

“Oh my god, it’s an absolute shit show sometimes. Yeah, touring isn’t the constant bender people tend to think it is, and musicians don’t show up and play then walk away. Our band and our crew all have very important jobs to do and a lot of work goes into that. That being said, we all do have a lot of fun.

“Like, we’ve gone out with Trivium once and been on the same festival circuits, and they’re great fun. Matt and Corey have this longtime guitar tech who’s known for her pranks. They literally toilet papered us on stage once.

“But outside of prank wars, these are the people you eat your meals with every day, these are the people you see constantly. You end up on the same flights, hanging out backstage and in tour busses, so it’s really, really hard not to make friends with the other bands.” Finn reached for a mozzarella stick, popping it on a plate so she could add salt.

“Salt on a mozzarella stick?” Sean raised his eyebrows as she followed up with a dunk into the marinara cup she had commandeered.

“She salts everything. This woman’s sodium intake is through the roof, it’s like she’s trying to clog her arteries.”

“Alright, Brian, first you defend me, then you throw me under the bus. Who’s interview is this, anyway?” She stuck her tongue out at the tattooed man, who poked it with a finger. “And then you meet people like him on tour, and you just can’t shake ‘em,”

“How long have you and Brian known each other?” With an eyebrow lifted, Finn glanced at her partner, who sat in the booth with his arms crossed over his chest, his trademark smirk on his lips. Should she answer the question? Talk about their personal lives for once? Hell, she lived with him now…

“I think I’ve known you for… what, three days?” She asked with a giggle as she piled a garlic knot on her plate. “I think we’ve been seeing each other a year now, isn’t that right? Just about? When I lived in Boston I could tell time by the seasons changing, but that doesn’t happen here.”

“Sounds about right.” Finn could tell he was intrigued that she had chosen to answer the question. Brian had never really cared about talking about the pair’s relationship, anything outside of their agreement was fair game to him, but he had always respected his partner’s tight-lipped stance.

“Love at first sight, for sure. I’d creepily watch them from the side of stage with the boys. The camaraderie thing aside, we were just kind of in awe of Avenged - the ‘how the fuck did I get here?’ complex.” Findlay paused to order a pizza, letting the guys do the same and acquiring a glass of water before she continued. “And then they asked me to fill in for Zacky while he was on maternity leave, and I about died.”

“One day I’ll convince her that she really is extremely talented,” Brian interjected, stealing half of the last mozzarella stick off her plate.

“So yeah. The Heathens have been through a lot since then, lots of touring, lots of moving, lots of recording. Mostly recording, these days. We’re about done with this album, I think. We had a bit of an adjustment period, moving to LA, but now we’re just polishing some of the trickier guitar parts.”

“I hear this album is going in a bit of a different direction than the last?”

“Yeah, Toric is playing guitar, it’s really freed me up to do some more virtuoso work. I wasn’t sure about it at first, but it’s really a lot of fun. I can’t wait to release it for you guys.

The conversation lapsed, became more friendly and less interview-like when the pizza came.


	24. Chapter 24

With a fond farewell - she had grown to like her interviewer, as she often did - Sean jumped in a cab and the guitarists got back into the truck with Findlay’s box of leftovers. Before he pulled out of the parking spot, Brian paused, looking at the younger guitarist with his sunglasses hanging from his sharp jawbones.

“You talked about us,” He commented dryly, his lips betraying just a hint of a smile. “I mean, I think you talked about everything, but you talked about us,”

“I did.”

“Any reason?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that picture of your hands on my breasts is going to be used somewhere. And you’ve got some pretty recognizable knuckles,” Findlay propped the pizza box on the dash and reached for his fingers, captivating them in hers as they sat in the parking lot. “And I’m tired.”

“Tired?”

“Tired of avoiding the conversation every fucking interview. We live together, Bri. Those photos from Vegas are still out there somewhere, and then there are tons of paparazzi shots…” Findlay shrugged, looking out the windshield. “I’m not gonna talk about you all the time, but it’s nice not to…”

“I get it, Finn. people are less interested if you don’t have to say ‘no comment’ all the time.”

“And we’re the worst kept secret on the planet,” She added, as if that was new information. She glanced at her partner, who smiled fondly at the lavender-haired guitarist as he shifted into reverse. “I just don’t want to put us in a position where we have to publicly address… well, you know.”

Brian’s smile faded as he turned to face forward, pulling out of the parking lot smoothly.

“I do know,” He sighed, focusing on the road. Well, fuck. Findlay sighed and dumped her phone in the cupholder, arms crossed as she stared at her rockstar partner.

“Oh, come on Bri, don’t be like this. Do you really want to try to explain that to the masses when our own friends don’t get it?”

“Well, no. But I just thought of… If people know we’re a couple, they’re going to think I’m a cheater. You, too.”

“I don’t do it as much,” Finn murmured with a giggle, noting the slight smirk on her partner’s face. She was much more selective with her quarries… well, it wasn’t fair to say Brian was completely indiscriminate, it was just that he had more women throw themselves at him on a more consistent basis. Findlay tended to go for people she knew - other guitarists, usually - and Brian tended to sleep with fans in one-night-stands. It was something they both knew about each other.

“Still, though,” He reached for her fingers as they hit highway traffic, twining their tattooed knuckles together.

“Gets me into trouble, you know. I really screwed myself on the Neil thing.” Brian shot her a look with an eyebrow raised over his Wayfarers, a concerned frown on his lips. “No, ok. I should have said I really screwed Neil over.”

“Did you? I know I said no details, but...”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Bri, it’s not funny. I didn’t realize he still… wanted me that way.” She grabbed her water bottle to take a long gulp, if only to keep from talking for a minute.

“Oh, don’t be an idiot, Findlay,” Her eyes bulged with the effort of not spraying water over the interior of the truck, and she turned to her guitar god partner with a furrowed brow. “Just because you don’t think of him that way didn’t mean he didn’t still. People don’t get over one another that quickly.”

“How was I supposed to know?”

“Oh, I’m sure there was some writing on the wall that you missed, sweet. You’re not the best at social cues.”

“Tough fucking love right now, Bri. You sound like fucking Toric.” Brian faked a hurt look as he turned off the highway, his tattooed grip tight on the steering wheel like he was uncomfortable with the conversation.

“I love you, but sometimes you need some tough fucking love. I’d say staying away from exes should have been a clause from the beginning,” Yep, he was definitely ticked on some level.

“I wouldn’t consider him an ex, Brian. We had a good couple of months on the road. That was it.” She paused, staring at him incredulously as her mind worked through the last few moments, trying desperately to catch up with the scenario. “Are you… Jealous? Of Neil?”

He didn’t say anything as he drove through Huntington smoothly, and it was all Finn could do to stare at him levelly, trying to find the next thing to say without blowing his lid, or her’s. After a few long, tense moments, she sighed and leaned her head back against the headrest of the truck, rubbing her temples with her tattooed fingertips.

“Brian. The whole point of this is to not get jealous about it.”

“You’re right, but I’m still jealous,”

“And I’m not sure why. I didn’t mean to hurt him and I wouldn’t have if I had known. Why are you jealous when I hurt him?”

Brian’s fists hit the steering wheel of the truck as he pulled up to a stop sign in their neighborhood, and he glared at Findlay angrily.

“I don’t fucking know, Findlay! I don’t know why I’d be jealous of him, I’m just telling you that I am!” His tone was slightly raised - just shy of shouting at the guitarist. She was taken aback, hands clutching the seat belt over her chest like that was going to protect her from Brian’s rare fit of rage. Silently, the stormy-eyed guitarist stared at her partner, trying to stay calm as his temper started to explode.

“It’s not fair, Findlay! It’s not fair that we don’t get each other’s undivided attention - it’s not fair to either of us, it’s not fair to the people we sleep with. It’s just not fucking fair!” The truck was moving again, and Brian’s grip on the steering wheel was tight as he pulled into the garage next to his Koenigsegg.

“God damn it, Findlay, there are days I wake up and wonder why I can’t have you all to myself,”

She wasn’t listening any more, as she slung herself out of the car and through the garage, slamming both the truck door and the garage door behind her. It wasn’t right - he didn’t get to treat her like this. The agreement benefitted both of them, especially him. If it wasn’t for their agreement, they would have broken up back in Vegas.

Findlay considered throwing herself down on the bed in their bedroom, but stalked past to the sliding glass doors to the patio and lit herself a cigarette. She could see Brian pacing back and forth in the kitchen, hands balled in fists, but she leaned against the teak tabletop, waiting for him to reason with himself enough to calm down.

Finally, he approached the doors - just to turn back again. Findlay sighed and hopped up on the countertop, reaching to loosen the laces of her high-tops as she waited, watching as Brian resumed his pacing. She crossed her feet under her thighs, tapping her fingers on her knee as she scrolled through her music, settling on some Watain to match her dark mood.

“Finn,” Brian’s call from the doorway was soft, and he looked as if he had been scrubbing his cheeks. She wondered if he had been crying - certainly not her hard ass, she mused, trying not to let a wry grin cross her face. At least, not that he would admit.

The smaller guitarist braced her fists on her knees, waiting with a raised eyebrow to hear from the man - an apology, anything. He paused, staring at her as he twisted his phone in his hands. After a few moments, he seemed to realize what he was doing and shoved the thing into his pocket, moving toward the lavender-haired woman.

“Findlay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you -”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” She couldn’t help but interject as he rested his fingers on her knees, next to her fists. The look he shot her was flat, but softened as he reached for her cheek with a calloused, tattooed palm. It was all she could do to keep from nuzzling into his hand, recalling that she was still upset with him.

“- I understand that this is what makes us us. This is why we work,”

Findlay kept her mouth shut, still gazing levelly at the man. Her hand, using a mind of its own, inched toward his on her knee, but stopped just shy of actually touching her fingers to his.

“Sweet,” This time, she couldn’t help herself, and pressed her cheek into his hand. “Findlay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you. It’s just hard not to be jealous of anyone who… gets to know you. But I’m not jealous. Because it doesn’t matter who else you sleep with. At the end of the day, you’re still mine,”

“Still a bit possessive, there but I’ll accept your apology,” She murmured after a moment’s pause, stroking his fingers against her skin. “Why would you ever get upset about my… placeholders? I don’t get upset about the girls you sleep with,”

“Because unlike me, you’re perfect, beautiful, and mega talented and I’m sure every man tries to keep you for himself,”

“Sucks to be them.”


	25. Chapter 25

“It’s not right, Toric. You need to be off the beat. Try it again,”

The smaller twin was exhausted, and the larger irate as they worked through a particularly difficult section of a song. They had rehearsed it almost to perfection, but the drudgery of the recording process had started to rear its ugly head. The quartet needed a break, but thanks to deadlines all they could do was slug along.

By the time she got home every night, the last thing she wanted to hear was more guitar, but Brian had started to write for Avenged’s next album. It was enough to make her stop for a cigarette before she got in the car, staring out over the parking lot at Capitol records. Which turned out to be a good thing, she realized as he phone rang. She hated taking calls in LA traffic.

‘Mind picking up some Coke on the way home?’

With a sigh, Finn acquiesced, letting her partner know she would stop at the store on the way home. As she pulled into the Trader Joe’s in Brian’s big truck, her phone rang again. Exasperated, Finn fumbled with her phone as she tried to answer it, not checking the caller ID.

“What?” She snapped, as she turned off the truck in the Trader Joe's parking lot.

“Findlay O'Shaughnessy?” The voice on the other end wasn’t familiar, and Finby paused as she slammed the truck door, toying with her cigarettes.

“This is she,” Fuck, did she fuck up? Should she have let it ring to voicemail?

“We’re trying to get ahold of you and your band, are the rest of the Heathens around?”

“Who is this, why didn’t y’all go through my agent?” She asked, finally pulling a cigarette out to light.

“We should have her on the line soon,” The mysterious male voice hadn’t identified himself, so she perched on the bed of the truck - a serious climb for the petite guitarist. She kicked her feet as she waited, listening as her agent and her bandmates were connected.

“Sorry Finn, we must have just missed you at the studio for the night,”

“Yeah, well, it is almost ten,” Finn quipped, staring at the cherry of her cigarette in the dark. “I can’t stay on the line too long, my partner is going to wonder what the hell is going on,”

“Which is exactly who we’re here to talk about. Heather, do you want to introduce me?”

“Make it quick,” Now her twin was feeling feisty, he must have been about to take his girlfriend to bed. Which would be why he had remained silent for so long.

“Toric, Findlay, Max and Rhys, this is Marcus from the MTV Music awards. Before you get excited, this isn’t for you. But you’ll like where we’re headed.”

“Where are we headed then, Marcus?”

“Call me Marc, Finn. At least, I’m going to assume that’s Finn.”

“That’s the one, sir. Before my brother goes beserk, what’re y’all calling about?”

“Well, we’re going to give an MTV Lifetime Achievement Award to a band we feel you might be close to - Avenged Sevenfold.”

Findlay sucked in a gasp between her teeth, wishing she was still back with her brother. She swore under her breath and stepped back into the bed of the truck, searching for a more private place to tuck her feet under her thighs and listen to what this Marcus had to say.

“Where do we fit?” Toric sounded angry - Finn could have called that. He hated anything that linked the Heathens with Avenged, just like his sister hated anything that made them seem that they had been handed their lot in life.

“We’d like you to intro and help us put together a medley of their songs. We’ve got a few other artists who would be interested in joining the medley, but we would like you to close it. What our vision is, currently, is that Findlay will introduce the award and tease who is getting it before the other bands play, you close the medley, and Valary presents the award.”

“Who are the other bands?” Toric asked, finally starting to sound a little interested in the proposal. “We would put together the whole medley?”

“Yes, you would assemble the medley. We’ve reached out to Foo Fighters and Metallica and gotten positive responses,” Findlay could only mouth the names of the two bands to herself, knowing her band mates and brother were similarly shocked.

“So we'll be writing for Foo Fighters and Metallica?” Toric’s voice was small, like she felt. “Well. Arranging for them?”

“That's right, and I think you'd need to start right away, the event is in three months and we're going to want practice time for the three of you.”

Findlay’s mind was already running a mile a minute through Avenged’s catalog, filing similar songs together, pulling out favorites and the more famous from the obscure.

“Is this something you would be interested in?”

“I'd say that's up to Finn, right guys?” Max asked. He sounded like he and Rhys were on speaker. “Unless there's some contractual reason Heather knows about that we don't.”


	26. Chapter 26

With a dramatic sigh, Brian threw himself on their bed, the toes of his new boots shoes dangling above the wood floor.

“Seriously, Bri, you’re going to wrinkle your shirt,” Finn called, absolutely exasperated by her partner, as a pair of women buzzed around her perch on a stool in their bathroom, primping and polishing her for an appearance on the red carpet. Like it mattered. While he wasn’t wearing one of his ratty v-necks, the crisp white button up - unbuttoned to show off his tattoos, sleeves rolled up to the elbows - was a lost cause already. The MTV VMAs weren’t a fancy event like the Grammys, but she had put her foot down when he had tried to wear his usual onstage fare. The women of Avenged had been on her side, thankfully, so he wouldn't stand out.

“I just thought we’d be ready to go soon.” He sat up, his tattooed hands clasped between his knees as he kicked his feet. Findlay couldn’t help but roll her eyes - and almost got stabbed by a stick of eyeliner for her troubles.

“What time is it, Brian?” She called patiently, holding out her hand so one of the makeup artists could paint her nails.

“Two.”

“When’s the car supposed to get here?”

“Two thirty.”

“I need you to not be a drama queen for half an hour.” He raised his r-stamped middle finger, and laid back on the bed, hand still outstretched. Finn sighed, blowing on her fingers. “Thanks, Marcia, London. Y’all are lifesavers, truly,” The beauty team had been referred to her by Valary, who had another pair of women from the same company back at her house to prepare her. Honestly, Findlay wouldn’t have been ready on time or looked nearly as good if it weren’t for their help.

Marcia smiled as she shook a can of hairspray, dousing a lavender curl with a healthy dose before she brushed it out.

“We’re just about ready to put you in the romper, actually,”

That perked Brian up - he sat up on the bed, chomping at the bit for any opportunity to see the lavender-haired guitarist even only semi-nude. Finn, on the other hand, felt silly as she was helped out of her robe and into the romper, the stylists being very careful with her hair and freshly painted nails. The garment was dark red with a plunging neckline that displayed the top of her lion tattoo and a crocheted overlay that made it only a little less risque.

“That’s quite a look, Finby,” Brian called as London buzzed around with jewelry, putting an assortment of rings on her fingers and clipping on a cuff bracelet.

“I try. I’m not sure I’ll be able to walk in these heels, though…” She gripped London’s shoulder as she stepped into the spiky shoes. She took a few shaky steps, feeling like Bambi as she clomped her way over to where Brian sat, his arms outstretched.

“You sure you want to wear those?” He asked, catching her elbow as she tripped over some tiny air current or flaw in the whitewashed wood floor. “Fuck, Finn, you’re going to kill yourself. And I’m positive you’ll take me with you.”

“Yeah, maybe no heels.” Finn frowned as she stepped out of the shoes, gripping her partner’s forearm tightly. “What do I do instead? Fuck, I should have thought of this,”

“Findlay, you literally never wear heels. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in them, sweet. Why start today?” He stole a kiss as London hissed about ruining her lipstick and swooped in with more of the wine red shade. “It’s only Album of the Year, we literally never win that shit.”

“You know, Bri, what if we win Best New Artist, huh?” She stuck her tongue out at the man, reaching to run her fingers through his hair to poof up his bouffant.

“Why don’t you just wear your Docs, sweet?”

Finn considered the closet pensively, lips pursed.

“What do you guys think? Will that ruin the outfit?”

An hour later, Finn gripped Brian’s hand in both of hers as she stared at the gauntlet that was the red carpet, wondering why the hell she had agreed to attend an awards show anyway, no matter who was getting awarded. While being around the rich and famous didn’t bother her, the cameras snapping aggressively did. The pair were stuck in the pre-carpet tent until their bands showed up - all were on their way, struggling with some level of lateness.

“Overwhelmed?”

“How did you know?” Finn asked, relaxing her grip on his hand.

“You’re doing that thing. Where your eyes get all big and concerned. And you stare at me like you’re going to crawl behind me and hide.”

“Thinking about it,” She murmured, trading hands as he pulled his away to rest on the small of her back after a quick flex to regain feeling in his tattooed fingers.

“You’ll be fine. It’s no different than playing a show, or doing a meet and greet,” He soothed, bending to kiss her temple.

“Finby, are you freaking out again?” Her brother’s tattooed fingers closed on her shoulder, his new guitar calluses rough on her skin. “It’s like one big meet and greet,”

“That’s what I said, but I don’t think it’s helping. Do you guys wanna go ahead now or wait for us?” Brian asked, an eyebrow raised at Finn’s death grip on his tattooed palm.

“I think we’ll wait. Maybe one of the guys brought a crowbar,” Toric waved his hand as Rhys and Max joined them. The Heathens all looked put together and their outfits complemented - if not matched - hers, Finn had personally approved all outfit choices. They were coordinated but not campy, and she was proud of her boys.

“Could you have worn less clothes, tiny?” Max asked, lifting a hand to ruffle her hair. He seemed to think better of the move as she glared at him.

“That’s the question you’re going to ask the woman who just did Maxim? She can absolutely wear less clothes,” Rhys joked, poking her shoulder. “Come on, Finn, relax. We’re right behind you.”

“And us, too,” Finn glanced over her shoulder to see the rest of Avenged and their wives. She was slightly jealous of the women, who didn’t have to run the press gauntlet but were dressed for the occasion anyway. The guitarist disentangled herself to hug Val and Matt, working her way through the rest of the group.

“I love this,” Val picked at the flowy sleeve of her romper, inviting her to turn. “Should have done different shoes, though, tiny,”

“I had heels on but… I literally fell before I could get out of the bedroom. Health hazard.” Finn wondered when Val had taken to calling her tiny, but couldn’t come up with an answer as one of the event assistants bustled over with her clipboard and headset.

“Are you all ready? Two groups, one private, right?”

Finn sighed as Brian held her close, her face pressed against the blazer he had put on before they left the house.

“It’s alright, babe, I’ll be right behind you.”

At one point, as the singers were both chatting with reporters, Brian snuck forward to slap Finn’s ass with a windup that left her stinging and swearing at the grinning man.

“For fuck’s sake, Brian, what the hell!” She chased after him, intent on returning the favor until Zacky flailed his arm wildly as part of his storytelling routine with a reporter and clocked the petite guitarist in the jaw.

“Holy shit, Findlay, I am so sorry,” The blue-eyed guitarist caught her by the shoulders as the lavender-haired woman staggered, seeing stars with her hand to her jawbone. “Are you ok?”

“Did you take up boxing?” She asked after a moment, tasting blood where her teeth had clamped on her tongue. “Christ, Zacky,”

“Let me see,” Brian had returned and tilted the lithe guitarist’s head so he could see her cheek, running a thumb over her jaw tenderly as his eyes danced mischievously. “I think you’ll live. Not the first time you’ve taken it on the chin,”

“Oh, go to hell Bri,” She threw her hands in the air, scowling as both bands broke out laughing at her expense. “Let the record show, I do not take it on the chin.”

“Oh, fucking hell Finn, I did not want to know,” Toric turned from his twin in fake disgust, leaning against the fence next to Matt to flirt with the reporter from TMZ. Their group picture taking had dissolved, and Brian offered a hand to the lithe guitarist. She took it without thinking too hard about the cameras - she was on the cover of Maxim with his very recognizable hands holding her tits, for christ’s sake, not to mention the interview - and walked with him down the carpet, limping only slightly from the earlier impact of the tattooed palm she held in hers.

“Your little girlfriends are all gonna be so jealous,” Finn laughed as Brian wheeled her around to pose for a few cameras, his hand at her waist.

“Of what I’m going to do to you when I get you home tonight?” He murmured, just loud enough that she could hear him over the clicking of a billion camera shutters.

“Mm, tell me more…”


	27. Chapter 27

“Ok, guys, get in closer. My arms aren’t that long. Act like you all like each other or something.”

Beaming, Finn stretched her arms out as far as she could to take a selfie with her band, her partner’s band and their wives. As soon as she finished taking a series of photos, there were demands for where she should send it. She made a group text to inundate - surely more pictures would be taken as the night wore on.

Seated with her partner, she still had to struggle to not feel bored as the event just. Kept. Going. The boys lost album of the year - Brian had called it, saying that their album would have won last year had the MTV people considered it. They had some fucked up rules in the VMA judging conventions. Finally, it was time for the best new artist award.

Finn and her bandmates had to feign excitement - they already knew they had won the award, as the rest of the evening depended on their being backstage after winning so Finn could kick off a medley of Avenged songs. The Heathens would close the performance, following Metallica, Foo Fighters and Ariana Grande (whom Finn had been shocked to find out was a) sweet and b) a fan). They had practiced in secret, claiming the need to re-record certain parts of the album to cover her with Brian. The sneaking around had been worth it - or so Finn hoped.

“And the winner of Best New Artist is…” Katy Perry seemed to struggle to open the envelope, extending her time in the spotlight. “The Heathens!”

Beaming - it was still exciting to receive an award even if they knew it was coming, and weren't exactly new artists - the quartet bounded up on stage, Toric taking advantage of the moment to hug the pop star tightly.

“Where do we even begin with the thanks? I'm so so proud. Of the three men up here with me today, our management team…” Finn felt a little like she was rambling and let Toric take over until the music started to play and the four of them went backstage.

Finn passed the Moonman off to the waiting hands of a production assistant, listening as another award was presented. Tor had his hand on her elbow, letting his calming presence wash over his little sister.

“Don't be nervous. It's just like a show.”

“It is a show,” Max laughed, adding his hand to her shoulder. “Go get em, Finnby.”

“See you in a minute!” Rhys called. The boys went one way - backstage to get strapped in - and she walked on stage to a waiting microphone, hands clasped at her waist so they would stop shaking. The stage was dark, with only a single spotlight on her standing in the middle of the stage with a mic on a stand. She felt cliche, and reminded herself it was for the boys - it was for Brian - as she waited for the applause to die down before she spoke. At least she was pretty well versed in reading crowds.

“When MTV asked me to introduce the Video Vanguard award this year, I was torn. I’m not a public speaker, I’m a guitarist, I thought. What am I supposed to do, sing the announcement to a room full of the most talented people in the business?” She paused as the crowd laughed, waiting. “But when they told me who I would be presenting to, I agreed immediately. This year the award goes not to an individual, but to a group - one who has inspired my bandmates and I, as well as countless of our friends and fellow musicians. These guys are not only incredibly talented, but dedicated to their craft, their fans and their families. They have been together for longer than they haven’t, yet they still have the spark of youthful optimism of a much younger band. When other bands would have given up, these guys persisted, overcame, and even thrived. That is why MTV and a panel of their peers have decided to award this band with the Video Vanguard award.

“But before we tell you who this deserving band is, some friends and I took the liberty of putting together a bit of a show for those of you outside the genre who might not be familiar with their music. Take it away, James!”

The lights came up on Metallica on the opposite side of stage, strumming the opening notes to Beast and the Harlot. What Finn wouldn’t have given to see the looks on the guys faces, she mused as she was led backstage by a technician, guided to Mackenzie, her guitar tech, who held one of her black ESPs - she had finally gotten a sponsorship from the brand, and those racks of Schecters she envied just over a year and a half ago had become racks of her own guitars. She was fond of giving them away to fans, who only very occasionally realized or complained that they'd were 7/8ths sized rather than full sized guitars.

“God I wish we could see their faces,” Toric called, moving to stand next to the lavender-haired guitarist. “Are you ready for this?”

Finn nodded gamely as Metallica shifted into Almost Easy from Hail to the King. She fidgeted with her picks as Foo Fighters began in on God Damn, Shepherd of Fire, and were joined by Ariana Grande for an interesting rendition of Nightmare. Shaking, Finn squeezed her brother’s hand tightly before they took their places on stage - with her at the middle mic. Why she had agreed to do most of the solos and the singing she would never know. The stage was quiet and dark as she began to strum and sing the intro to one of her favorite songs.

“Never feared for anything. Never chained but never free…” The transition through the the verses of So Far Away to jump to the chorus had been the hardest part - re-learning something she had played dozens of times on stage and hundreds with Haner. They flowed through a brief spot of Afterlife and a touch of Bat Country. Toric stepped into the mic as they were joined by the Hetfield, Grohl and Grande to close with a slightly chaotic version Unholy Confessions, which left Finn shaking with adrenaline.

The petite guitarist realized she was standing on one of the amps in the center of the stage, her guitar in hand, the other outstretched and balled into devil horns. She had done a very “Brian” thing, unstrapping it to throw it around to play the last few notes with just her fingers as the other and members joined on stage. Holding her guitar by the neck, she climbed down as Val - radiant in a tight gold sequined dress, took the mic she had stood at to introduce the medley.

“Aren’t they so lucky to have such great friends?” Val asked with a chuckle, her arm out to the bands that had gathered on the side of the stage, Metallica mixing with the Heathens and Foo Fighters as they all laughed together. Finn tried to find Brian’s face in the crowd through the bright lights as she panted, adrenaline still coursing through her veins.

“Finn mentioned dedication when she gave her speech earlier, and she was spot on. I’ve been around the guys since the beginning, and I can think of no one more dedicated or deserving of this award. They’ve had their ups and downs, and have risen to each new challenge with enthusiasm and pride.

“It is my immense honor to present the Video Vanguard award to the gentlemen of Avenged Sevenfold!”

A cheer went up through the crowd, and Finn found herself in the middle of a group hug as Metallica and the Foo Fighters gathered around her - legends in their own right - to congratulate each other on a show well played. Through the din of cheers and sweaty bodies, she felt a pair of hands reach for hers, felt the electricity of two tattooed palms joining as she was pulled out of the middle of the circle.

Her lover grinned at her, pulling her body to his, his calloused fingers under her chin with his other hand at her waist.

“You’re so incredible,” He murmured into her ear, his lips brushing against her earrings as he spoke. “What did I do to deserve you?”

Smiling, Finn didn’t answer his rhetorical question, her hands on the lapels of his blazer. The guitarist had pushed his sleeves up his elbows, leaving the unbuttoned cuffs of his shirt untucked in a haphazard way that was so typically Brian. She released one lapel to touch her fingers to his lips, smiling brightly. Yes, the nervousness, the practice… it had all been worth it.

“I love you,” She kissed his cheek and pushed him away with her hand on his chest. “Go get your damn award!”

He followed her direction, but took her with him under his arm. He was enveloped in hugs by his bandmates as Matt spoke into the mic, gesturing at the rest of his bandmates as Val held the Moonman. The other wives stood with them, beaming at their respective husbands, just as she was, she realized. Brian took her hand in his as he moved to the mic to give thanks after Matt was done.

“Thank you to the guys around me - it hasn’t always been easy, but it sure as shit is worth it. My family - mom, dad, Brent, Kenna - our teams, our fans, without all of you we wouldn’t be here. Thanks for believing in a bunch of assholes from Huntington. And my rival, my inspiration and my rock - thanks for keeping me around.” He stepped back from the mic to take Finn’s hand in his again as Zacky moved to take his turn at the mic.

“Rival?” Finn asked as the taller guitarist wrapped his arms around her shoulders, holding her close to him.

“I’ll say. Wait until you see the video of you playing tonight, Finn. I’d say you’re better than me.” She raised an eyebrow at the flattery as the music started to play for the end of Brooks’ speech. Johnny had gone first, so all of the guys got their time in pretty equally.

Finn let her partner lead her off stage with the guys and their wives, letting a hand slip into Brian’s pocket.

“Is there an after party?” Val asked, looking at the small guitarist as if she would actually know. “I hope there’s an after party,”

“I think there is but you’ll have to talk to my twin,” Finn shook her head at the singer’s wife. “He’s social chair.”

“I hate to interrupt social planning, but I’m about to steal you for a cigarette. Did you bring any?” Brian asked, his hand still on the small of her back.

“No... at my seat. With my phone. Fuck, I didn’t think about the ‘after’ part of this very much,”

“I think I might have a solution to your problem,” Meaghan had a small purse that she unzipped, and handed the smaller guitarist her cigarettes and phone.

“You’re my hero!” Finn slipped her effects into the pockets of her romper with a plethora of guitar picks - one of the reasons she had selected the garment was for the pockets - and paused to mourn the loss of her lighter to the table as the black-haired guitarist slipped his arm over her shoulder.


End file.
